Qeya River Imitosis

She watched the sparkle of water in sunlight as it ran in rivulets down his muzzle, then fell in droplets back into the river. It helped to focus on the details of something rather than the confusion that ran rampant in her mind, and Magpie felt herself relax. He spoke in short sentences, his tone almost monotonous; she might have thought that he was bored, if not for the way he was attempting to engage her. She could guess at his assumption, but she didn't mind it— for it wasn't entirely untruthful. Magpie had been much more of a collector in her youth, but she still enjoyed decorating her den with beautiful things.

"A shiny rock," she repeated. Then, "What do you need it for?"

Her question was genuine, for most wolves had no use for such things, and there was no hint of judgment in her tone. Awaiting an answer (and perhaps receiving one), her gaze cast over him. His eyes were silver, behind a unique mask of black that made him look almost skeletal, and the rest of him was an unremarkable mix of silver and variegated grey. Not unattractive by any means, but no Summer, either.