Larksong Grotto defuse your private bomb

The water in the pool was dark but there was enough light drifting in to the cave for Tryphon to see his outline; the rain made everything moodier, from the staccato beat across the surface, to the gloomy grayness that crept in from outside of the grotto. Tryphon's masked face was the easiest thing to make out. As the fur there caught the light, he could see the taper of his muzzle and the roundness of his cheeks. While looming over the pool, drips from his chin added to the collected rainwater, but he did not shake the rest of the fluid free from his pelt. 

The boy was standing there when two strangers arrived - but he was too tired, too confused, and too absorbed in his studying to notice them. The first stranger spoke and initially Tryphon did nothing. He was transfixed, as if not hearing the softly spoken words. Then the second stranger spoke, and the continued attention seemed to rouse him - but the boy only reacted to the first statement. Because the voice, as light as it had sounded, was somehow familiar.

Tryphon raised his head, and then turned it - followed by the rest of him - to face the two wanderers. He wasn't afraid of them although perhaps he should have been. And a furrow creased his brow. 

"What did you say?" He questioned, his voice quiet, and after he spoke, he licked his lips thoughtfully. Before either of the wolves could answer, Tryphon turned back to the water - mumbling something about, "Water doesn't scare me." 

However, as he looked at his reflection again, he thought he saw fire, or a flash of something spanning the pool - wolf shaped but red, and very brief -  and a voice rang in his ears like the howling wind - Larus, you can't swim, - and he seemed to flinch back a step, casting his eyes away.