Totoka River i spend my money on the regular miracles

he does love paradise. it may be cold and he may be sick, and maybe there are strange wolves here too — but it's so beautiful. there's so much more life, even as the weather grows colder. he can't help but be lost in the scenery as he walks, full of hope and light, sunny thoughts. he's never been this happy, he thinks.
he spots the river from a distance, and it's so pretty he can't help but take off running toward it. his legs feel sort of heavy, and his head does too, but he's too distracted to think about that right now. when he reaches the water, he plunges his muzzle into it without a second thought, enjoying the feeling of frigid water against his dry, too-warm nose and mouth. he comes up after a moment sputtering slightly, giggling because he doesn't really mind coughing on such nice water. it's nothing like the murky waters of the barrens — but it's not the sickly saccharine of daisy fields, either. it's perfect.