Whitefish River I can show you your 'Devil'.

For le @Harmony

Some things were not meant to be. 
Some were. 
The wolf trotted his way away from the warmer helm of the lands, feeling the currents of air as they drafted upon flint hued whiskers. Nothing was more in tune than he and nature. His afinity for finding food was uncanny, and that was a perk to have as a wild wolf. But his way of scandal was even more pristine, as the heir of the worthless Xandir history made his Father's genetics do his bidding. As his dad had, he had, and that had was a silver tongue and witt. It kept him from danger, gave him the edge he needed, and sought purchase with the flowers of females of his kind. He probably had kids already; it was unbeknownst to him. And without a doubt, he was without a care. 

This intellect however, allowed this Wolfdog prestige over his usually met counterparts. Though he had the body of canine, the quadruped was afflicted with a tinge of blue hidden in that long haired pelt of his. The glint of the ocean's depths flared the beautiful blue if Siqsa was in the light fleetingly enough to show it. More often than not the nearly 2 year old strayed from said light, keeping his heritage a secret between him and the Sun. His smarts kept him this way. Just as they kept him from leaving this path he walked, further and further following this salty and wet scent, one scarred with an aquamarine filter of flavor just on the brisk of your tongue. Water was where life was born. And this same water held it, still. 

Grasses thinned and began their recede back to loam, and soon to clay, mud, and rocks. Those rocks smoothed as he traveled further towards his goal. And soon, his volcanic eyes were upon it. A bright streak in the dusk's fleeing glimmer, and the orchastra of ripples...
A river. 

A satisfied smile crossed his lips, the tips of his most useful dentes peaking beneath the ebony maw's slips. A tongue lolled out just in time as he made a sure gait through the silt and clay floor. Onyx claws dug and prevented him from skidding directly into the mud's sides, and he looked much more natural, much more relaxed as he neared the azure current of the river. A snout bent to touch the blue, and dark pink rasped out, lopping up the wet. Body crouched and sturdy, he relieved his thirst before deciding to finish what he had arrived for. 

Inky ears peeled back as headfirst he dove. Paws tucked tightly under forelimbs as his nostriils locked air within. Tail extended and soon he was in the cold embrace of the river. 
The fire within the girth of his heart was suffocated into submission, and his world darkened into silence. All Siqsa could do now, was feel. Whiskers felt the pull of the current, but this was the more calm region of the River; nothing could sway him unless he allowed it so. Breath held, he submitted to the silence for a moment before opening those hellish eyes of his. All around him was a world of its own. How far down had he gone? He didn't know. But he knew the surface couldn't have been too far from him. Moving the pressure of air to his diaphram, the shimmering dark wolf used his tail as a rudder as the air assisted him in floating back to the surface. Webbed paws gained and shoved the cold world beneath him as he pushed himself up. Eyes returned to darkness as he closed them against the current, and as a predatorial deity would have, he surfaced with the grace of an aquatic murderer. The moment his black nose touched the air above, it exhaled, and inhaled greatly, pouring out the carbon and retrieving the oxygen his body was starved for.

Forelimbs unhinged and extended, combing through the water's pelt with long strides. Hinds pushed, elegant and expert in their performance. His fur was near void in the water at the entirity of Teekon was blanketed in the wallowing welcome of dusk. He was at peace, and in this river, in water period, the demon was at home.