Otter Creek be Bob Ross and paint me a picture

The voice was like someone gnawing on his skull and he groaned, sinking his face into the damp earth between his paws. His beefy form was well out of its prime, worn down by time doing only heavens knew what. He couldn't recall. He just knew the now. The pain and the odd voice.

Yeah....yeah. He mumbled as he pulled his face away from the earth to be heard by the stranger. Peach eyes squinted out of confusion as he took in the frosted figure. He didn't recognize them nor the scent that was on them. Everything was so foreign to him as he tried to stand on his own legs only to quickly find himself slumping into a sitting position.

Sorry...I'm not usually like this. He awkwardly admitted as he stared into the water.