Arrow Lake Wednesday has been cancelled due to a scheduling error

Quite close he was... and then his dark crown went under, and though as present and as observant as ever, the distant, less-so part of the she-wolf had gone petrified by memory, spine shivering —

Water.

Water had been given to her, and she did not want it; it burned and blearied the specks of argent eyes, which through she could scarce make her brother drowning through its indecisive gloam.

She must look as he did: clawing up towards wavering heavens in a youth’s straining vain, red scripture hewn, blooming, into the moonstone face; voiceless, water-lunged anguish cruel upon the cherubic planes where it should never belong —

— but she leapt from within herself when her son’s stricken self arose from the currents once more. Instantaneously, as he paddles for her pale breast, the silver reclines upon her haunches and spreads her forelegs in invitation... and redirection.

Still murmuring praise and encouragement, water now licking up the lines of belly and spine, Aurëwen worked her arms beneath him; the backs of one paw pressing into his belly; the other touching at the flex of his chin, his shoulder, his knee. For now, she aimed to steady in place; to keep him buoyed until he could manage her instruction.

“To swim is to dance, balaur. Your legs, your hips, and your tail are to propel and to direct you,” she informed, piercing eyes glancing at the line of his bold boy’s body. “Your strength comes from your belly, so keep it tight.” And when he did manage, she would gently release him, and let him ease into the shallows.