Tormented Tarns and he was the man for the job; a one-man bombsquad

A chuff interrupts his thoughts, and he tenses for a moment; he hadn't been aware of the presence of another, lost as he was in his own thoughts. He relaxes after a couple beats, gaze trained on the dark figure through the mist. He returns the chuff, turning toward the stranger but hesitating — was it meant as an invitation? Does he want to accept? He takes a few tentative steps forward nonetheless, stopping as his toes brush the edges of the water between them. He's less than enthusiastic about getting wet, given he's already cold — so he pauses there, watching the slightly-clearer form of the other wolf and waiting for their next move.