Alpine Lake the crownless again shall be queen

I fell asleep midway between writing this. I’m sorry if it’s not good! ;-;

Having quenched his thirst, Szymon settled back upon his lean haunches and licked his scarred lips with a heavy sigh. With the welter of woodland a good distance behind him, he felt calmer — freer. Raised beside the yawning expanse that was the ocean, he disliked the crowded feeling of being surrounded by trees; it created for him the miasma that a claustrophobic individual might feel if forced to ride on a crowded subway. Powerful jaws parted in a yawn that was cut short at the brief flicker of movement from the white wolf that caught his eye.

Szymon watched cautiously as the creature looked away. The pallid fur put the youngest Cairn boy immediately on edge, but with the woman’s head turned it was impossible to know for sure who he looked upon. Dipping his muzzle with silent indecision, he wondered whether to brave speech in the face of asking whether this stranger had met a dark wolf with stripes like Szymon’s. It was always so embarrassing to try and to fail, again and again, in his stuttering, stammering way. Find Skellige. If you do nothing else in your worthless life, find Skellige. Spurred by a current of self loathing for his cowardice, Szymon licked his lips a second time, swallowing hard over the knot in his throat.

A low rumble of cordial greeting spilled from his jaws.