Ankyra Sound What a surprise- an otter in my water

The chill of the water against his limbs was numbing. The summer winds were fading to fall. The thought of another famine was crippling, but the pallid brute knew that they had quite some time before the first snows would fall and the lands would be blanketed in fresh, powdered snow. Caiaphas had told him that the sea had been a boon during the wilds debilitating shortage of prey. The mercenary would not have found himself near the water if it had not been for his friendship with the coywolf female and his trust in her words. 

The ragged beast moved with lengthy strides. The water tossed against his legs in varying degrees of strength. It had been a short while since the disappearance of the wicked little leader, but her absence and her supposed death had rattled him beyond comprehension. The idea that Caiaphas was truly deceased had no place in his thought process. The ghost would not accept the image of her demise to the waters that she had been so devoted to. She would resurface; Kierkegaard forced himself to believe it. 

Fiery optics settled on a pair of wolves who were entirely unfamiliar to him. The pace that he carried had slowed considerably and he peered at them without a change to his expression. The haggard form of his body would have been unsettling, but he hoped that he might slip past them without causing a disturbance. That was until he noted the smudge of crimson that was present on the woman's face. He knew her! The memory escaped him, and the brute could not quite place their meeting point, but there was a certainty in the thought that she was not entirely unfamiliar to him. Still, Kierkegaard did not step forward - he did not insert himself into a place that was not his own.