Morningside Cuesta isn't hope an animal?

An ungraceful snort escaped him as he got water up his nose, but Grayday simply sneezed and went on rolling around on his back, his legs wheeling awkwardly in the air. Eventually, he rolled back onto his belly and ducked his head under the water, allowing the current to rush over his back and clear the grit away from his fur.

The creek was cold - shockingly so - but he'd grown used to it at that point. It was no longer uncomfortable to fully submerge himself, and he stayed underwater as long as he dared. Long enough that his lungs burned from want for air, and his limbs grew shaky with something like fear. I can go longer, he thought, knowing that if he simply held on, he could transcend the need to breathe, the ache that was seeping into his bones. But a moment later, he knew that he was wrong, and the silver male reared back with a giddy shout, his chest rattling with the force of that first breath.

He stood there for a moment, unable to do anything but pull in gasping breaths. His thoughts whirred uneasily while he regained equilibrium, but as soon as fresh blood had reached all his limbs and left them buzzing with returned oxygen, the feeling faded away. A moment later, he'd returned to his bath, though he now kept his chin above water.