Totoka River cold-blooded, hot-headed, I love it, I can't escape you

ever since rosalyn had expertly ejected sandpiper from her role of leadership, she had been rather hot-footed and flaky. never one to stay in a place for too long (especially not a place where she had been roughly humiliated), sandpiper had informed smokestep of her intentions and had gone up along the coast with no clear ambition save for one: get the fuck out of ironsea.

she crossed the braided river at a slow lope, slowing only as she saw a wolf upstream lapping from it. they were a similar age, which was in truth the only reason sandpiper dared approach -- quietly she examined the woman, from the deep black of her fur to the captivating byzantine blue of her commanding gaze. she said nothing, but figured that given she was in the open, her approach would surely be noticed.