Qeya River A little thirsty

He was not the only one drawn to the river by thirst, though it was not thirst alone that guided the dark paws of the wolf. She was lured by the scent of water the same way man was drawn to the glow of fire; it provided for her the same benefits that the flame provided for the men who crouched before it: security, comfort, and life. She would not be able to explain it in poetic elegance, but she felt it powerfully, and was resolute in her way to never be too far from it. Even as she fled her home, she had took to water to break her trail and baffle the hounds that chased her.

Her nose was the first to make her aware of the presence of another, but it did not sway her intention to the reach the river bank. Onward she loped, but with the general wariness that a smart wild animal always had. Her eyes sought to confirm what her nose already knew, and soon she spotted a large male drinking. She made not a sound, neither intentionally by woofing nor by her paws as she approached the water, downstream from the other wolf. Suspecting nothing, she too bent her head to drink, but her gaze was cast sidelong to watch the one upriver.