Totoka River "he waits for the wind to carry him home."

doggos are so pure ;;;

mahler's perfect respite, in which he had tolerated the existence of the other, was disturbed further by the to-and-fro rolling of the creature. recoiling somewhat, the musiker's eyes slid to narrowed slits; he regarded the other with no small or vague expression of derision, his features further darkened with spite when the other looked to him cheekily.
the wolf-thing's beard draped down across thin forelegs — mahler rocked back on his haunches and observed all he could see of the rangy beast, until his physical curiosities had been sated. "wolf?" he asked, a single word hanging in the thickness of an accent he had never been able to shake. his demeanour soon returned to something cool, something at once both inviting and unfriendly, and waited for an answer to his monosyllabic inquiry.