Wapun Meadow The water temple.

Location is closer to the mountains than the meadow, where Arrow Lake empties and becomes Swiftcurrent Creek.

A heavy mist had descended from the mountain range, starting around the late afternoon, and by the time the wolf had crossed in to the depths of the spacious meadow he couldn't make heads or tails of his route. The fog was so thick that he couldn't make out the space around him — his nose said it was cold and light, but his eyes could only see about four feet in any given direction, and the sounds were all absorbed without issue. It was a bright fog; the dimming of the sunlight was made more alien by the cascading tones caught upon the fog, dragging the colors out with gaussian softness; he couldn't tell the time, he couldn't see the stars. It was like being transported to a realm of spirits.

Tulimaq wasn't a spiritual creature and so, rather than being intimidated by superstition, he was mostly annoyed by his lack of progress. He saw the fog as a new adversary. A challenge that could be overcome. So he paced through the meadow, studying the way the fog rolled across the grass or collected like thin web around the tips of the few trees he encountered. Eventually his path took him through the meadow and his paws hit upon a weakened soil, and as he slipped he caught his claws upon smooth stones that held their own spectral chill. It took a moment before Tulimaq realized he had stumbled upon a riverbed; he was lucky to have stepped in to a shallow portion. The water only reached as far as his wrist, and he could easily slide backwards to right himself.

He stood there, on the western-most edge of Swiftcurrent Creek, not realizing his blood's history with the place. The fog seeped across the calmer sections and erased them from view, while the more mobile and agitated water fought back, rolling and twisting and crashing, causing the fog to thin and drift. It was beautiful to some degree, but mostly eerie.