Duck Lake he gives the world its saddest sound

Kessa had no direction. There was no purpose to her movements, no sense of bearing in her silent world. For so long Zema had been her mediator, the link between the silence and the sound. Once forced from her sister's side, Kessa had found herself with the Graces. She had struck out, perhaps foolishly, but no one could defy the Green Grace for long.

The wounds inflicted on her were scabbed over but she would sometimes find herself fascinated by the hairless patch on one leg where the Green had ripped the fur out in their fight. The coywolf preferred moving at night, when the darkness helped to shroud her ebony coat, though this day found her moving through marshland terrain. 

Kessa hadn't expected to find any, not noticing until he appeared from the reeds. He was a myriad of colors, his eyes a vibrant red hue. The deaf femme startled, hopping back half a step lest she crash into him. Her fur bristled along her spine, reminscent of a frightened cat.

The ebony she-wolf relaxed slightly, ears tipping back in an apologetic manner. Her lips parted though the thick noise that came out was more of a cough than a bark.