Whitefish River And horror in the halls of stone

They walk side by side, parallel to the river. The greywhite wolf prances along, eyes following Ulysses to keep track of him. Then after some odd minutes, possibly around fifteen, Ulysses can see the crushing current spraying up from where it rushes against the rocks.

He eyes the path of broken rocks, his plan is to get across and help this young man to safely across. With caution, the wolfdog takes a careful step forward and lands a paw on the first rock. Testing the waters, he can tell it's wet with slippery moss and a mold like substance. That's dangerous.

Round moon eyes gaze up and down the current. If he slips and gets washed up in the current it probably wouldn't be too fun, but he takes another step. Some of the rocks are spaced out, some even two feet away from each other which is a healthy jump. Especially when you're jumping onto the slick surface of the rock.

His fur collects jewels of water like dew from the current as he travels across the complicated terrain. He slips twice and he's only a quarter of the way across. So he jumps and slips every so often. His eyes are hard with concentration and his muscles already ache from how tense he is.

When he finally makes it across he's panting and on edge. He just hopes the smaller male is going to be able to cross. Looking down at him at a closer distance he sees the beautiful gold of his one eye and the other looks almost identical to his own. The black blaze that runs up his nose and fades into small flecks of black and grey and the rest of his body is made up of grey and white splotches. It makes Ulysses wonder where he got such markings.

Ulysses nods to the river. "I'm going to help you cross. I'll lead in front of you so if you fall just grab me. It's fucking slippery out there." He sighs, expelling some of the tightness in his muscles.