Tormented Tarns you got time to reconcile with your fear

The distraction moved out of his line of sight and the notion of it even being there passed, leaving him once more to his own devices, and more importantly to his chagrin, his thoughts. Rather it was more like the disorganization of said thoughts—the real distraction here—that swarmed him one after another, apparently endless. While he was busy weighing pros and cons, he did not pay attention to the fact that the wolf he had passed by was falling into line with him at a distance. At least, he didn't notice initially, or notice if he had tried to flag him down further.

What cued him in was the distinct sound of mud squelching as the wolf crossed the marshy earth. An ear turned back and heard this, caught it well, and disregarded it. It was when that distinct sound ceased that stirred him from his rousing internal debate and gave him that reason to pause. His gaze scanned the horizon as his head turned, and he found the wolf in an examination of his own... and closer. Much closer than their initial trade of greeting, but at least he was alone. Most of his little excursions had always included crossing paths with at least one, as more than one usually entailed being close to a pack.

The wolf was either bold, or needy.

And the same could have been said about him, too.

Dirge regarded him pointedly, almost cut from stone the way his posture straightened, and words managed to work their way out. ”Wouldn't recommend trying to keep up with me by walking through the next one,” he said. ”If you're thinking the mud's bad between your toes, just wait until you're up to your shoulders in it.” He would have known—Saor and Nyx had eventually shoved him into one.

word count: 302