Whitebark Stream the door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust on us

The stream didn't possess the dragging current that the rivers nearby did. He wasn't carried away, or trapped beneath the churning water. Instead he floated there, suspended a bit off the bottom, fuming at himself. If he could not catch a simple fish, how was he to care for his new family? He blew a bit of air out of his nose. Realizing he was soon going to run out soon, he kicked his hind feet out and paddled up until he broke through the surface a few feet down from where he'd fallen in.

His ears flicked back and he tried to shake the water off his face, succeeding only in dunkng himself further. But his ears drained and he heard the sound of a whine; an almost pleading tone. He looked up and beheld the face of his new mate, brows turned upward in alarm, and expression tight with worry. His heart sank. She'd witnessed his folly though, strangely, didn't seem put off by his inteptitude. Was she actually concerned? Truly this was a partnership, then.

Sitiyok pulled himself out of the water and moved to meet her. Though his pelt hung off him like a damp rug, and he looked rather ridiculous, he still carried himself with the bearing of a dominant male. He pushed his nose into her cheek and rubbed his own into her's with a warm, rumbling chuff. He was pleased to see her well. He had no food to offer for his two days away, and it was dawning on him that it would be more difficult to find the further inland they went. There was no herds left on his glacier, nor here in the lowlands.

The swarthy rogue rumbled a note of discontent, his expression distant.