Firestone Hot Springs Texas heat

Balthazar hated summer as much as any dark-furred wolf. His coat was thick -- not so much in these months -- but it was clearly made for a climate much colder and more severe than this, and now only served to make him pant and struggle along like he was wearing a sheepskin on his back. The sun, hung up high in the very-blue sky, seemed to grow hotter as he came from the eastern foothills and dropped to flatter land.

But as the pale wolf continued along, the pads of his feet growing warmer and his tongue lolling heavier than before, he began to suspect that it wasn't the sun's doing his demise at this moment. The scent of water filled his nostrils, accompanied with the warm tang of steam, and Zar realized he was in a bed of hot springs before actually coming across one.

Green eyes peered unhappily towards the first of many murky, heated springs, and his lip curled with the realization that it would be a hassle to go around just to avoid the heat. His fur prickled at the thought, but he began to trudge on without thinking too much about it. Planning wasn't his strong suit anyway. But along the way he began to wonder if actually taking a dip in the hot waters would be a good thing or not.