Qeya River I met this dude at Coachella

The fiendish male picked his way out of the Sleeping Dragon territory and began to scout beyond. He had not spent much of his time in the surrounding territory. His so-called duties had kept him inside the pack or close to the waves of the ocean in search of herbs to treat his fellow pack members. The frequent travelling on such a shortage of prey had left the already slender hybrid looking even more gaunt than before. His frame moved like a skeleton tinged in ochre and cinnamon with the sharpest citrine eyes. But he had managed to steal a few oysters while out on the prowl and they would tide him over until he could manage something better.
 
Traipsing his emaciated body down towards the sound of water, Glu imagined he would find himself with more luck when it came to fishing. Following the waters as he tiptoed on the outside of the bank, the coywolf watched with glinting eyes at the current that pulled everything downstream. For a moment, he feared that he might be whisked away should he attempt to enter it. But the hunger that ached in his body told him that it was needed.
 
Picking his paws up as he entered the river, the coywolf felt a chill in his bones that formed in goosebumps along his flesh. His canary eyes followed the movements of the water until he found a rhythm and he noted the few fish darting downstream. With careful precision, Glu darted his muzzle into the waters and clasped tightly to the writhing swimmer. A medium trout; enough that – on his emptiness – he would feel the life return to his body once more. Hopping back until he stood on the bank of the river, shaking the water from his pelt, he caught a movement from the corner of his gaze. An unfamiliar form with a scent that he knew well enough; another dragon. The ginger-hued woman did not appear well, and though the coywolf male was a wicked little beast, he was curious.
 
“Hungry?” he yipped to the woman as a smirk curled the edges of his lips.