Lake Rodney Rushing waves stand so tall

Andalusia sloshed from the riverbed as the rocky base of the stream began to drop. Her paws hit dry ground, and by compulsion the Ostrega gave herself a shake to rid her fur of extra water. She'd been emerged long enough for the water to penetrate through to her skin, and the gales lost their warmth the moment they touched her sodden body. A shiver pulsed through her, but she didn't see it proper to complain. The river was refreshing, and she revelled in the moments its coolness clung to her. The relief wouldn't last long.

A movement of ruddy fur bobbed in her peripheral and Andalusia turned her head to meet her company. At first she mistook the girl for a rather peculiar looking fox, but when the girl lifted her head and issued a chuff of warning, Andalusia paused mid-stride and tasted the air. The gales favoured neither she nor the small wolf across the way. Rather she caught the damp scent of the lake, and the underlying marks of Redhawk Caldera. How close was she to intruding? Andalusia slacked her ears, let her tail sway low, and turned her head until her torso pointed north-west and away from the pack. The young wolf remained in the peripheral of her diverted gaze, and Andalusia hoped the girl would understand the silent assurance she intended to travel well past their land, despite having followed the river right to it.