Otter Creek cripples, bastards, and broken things

Every time I post with Crescent its directly after work, so I'm exhausted, and he never makes sense lmao.

When the last of the creatures drifted around him (a young thing like himself, sniffing curiously until he shifted his snout towards it, and it bolted the rest of the way to safety) Crescent was left feeling more mystified than before. Had he been more with it, he might've considered the cacophonous moment to be something akin to a religious experience; rather, he was perplexed by it, bearing witness to the herd as if he were miles away, because mentally he wasn't there at all. His skin still burned. Water soaked in to his toes but he didn't feel its chill until much later — nor did he hear the voice of another wolf until an unhealthy silence had dawned upon them both.

Slowly - drunkenly - Crescent turned his attention to the shadow that sifted before him. The edges of the boy's vision remained blurred somewhat (watering from the heat of his skin perhaps?) and he opened his mouth to make a reply, but only managed a small exhalation before finding that his lips were dry. He tried licking them, and swallowing, but there was no saliva. He gave up for a minute, and turned to watch where he had last seen a deer - or what he thought had been a deer - and in finding that space empty,  his brow furrowed. The air is.. cold here, he murmured cryptically, and then seemed to relax.