Totoka River I hate the winter

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It wasn't often that Arturo left Teaghlaigh's borders, though he knew he would need to make the trek to Donnelaith soon to inform Deirdre of The Family's decided terms of alliance. He had considered sending a messenger, to aid one of his wolves who sought the trade but negotiations and alliances were delicate and personal matters and thus Arturo deigned to handle them himself. In fact, the Ceannasach preferred it despite that he trusted the wolves of The Family impeccably. He could have sent his red herring but Donnelaith and Blackrock Depths were already aware that he was the true ruler of Teaghlaigh and there was no need to use his deception. The melanistic coywolf wasn't overly sure what drew him out of his borders to follow the snaking trail of the Totoka River, aside from the fact that he had never truly followed it to where it yawned into the ocean. It cut through his forest, providing fresh water and fish for his wolves; if fishing was something they enjoyed. Arturo couldn't fish worth a damn and didn't like their taste anyway.

He did not venture too far and left the lands under Furiosa's care, trusting in his red herring to hold the fort while he slipped away for a few hours. It was tempting to make the short jaunt to Donnelaith in the hopes of paying Lotte a visit but he knew the next time he made the journey to their borders it would be on official business and not for the pleasure of seeing his nightingale again. He had to reign in his temptation and so he exerted careful control of it now, fiery red-orange gaze like embers set aflame focused on the mirror-like quality of the river's water ...and further on the fact that he was not alone. He saw the agouti stranger in the distance, upwind from him which excused why he had not yet smelled her. A low chuff of greeting and to announce his presence lest she had not yet noticed him was offered, lingering in the good stretch of distance between them.

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