Jade Fern Grove well, i might just replace you with a match stick and gasoline

Your post will be infinitely more poetic and meaningful than this blundering mess

There was a certain thrill to playing hookie. It was almost as if Amun had found a sort of purpose to his life where the meagerness of meaning lie. Like a loner he wandered, without rule or goal. Earlier he had caught a marmot and, as was usual for him, was carrying a femur bone proudly as he walked. It was a pup habit he had never grown out of.

He had been heading toward the scent of running water to get a drink, dehydrated from the earlier hunt. An overcast sky shone a grey light upon him as he jogged. Saliva ran down the bone he carried along his chin, dripping in occasional spits ahead of him. Everything about the summer air that day felt like love. He wished only that his sisters could be there with him to enjoy it, though he knew they would only poo-poo on his enthusiasm.

When Amun reached the stream, he was surprised but pleased to find another there. She was looking low and terrible, letting her paws into the running water to calm herself, he figured. As he drew closer, more details came into focus of this strange she-beast.

Her ears were ruined. Her fur depleted. She was but a sad form of wolf that he could barely recognize.
In him, she stole a will to help, a desire to be present if only for a moment. So he announced his presence with a friendly chuff and moved slowly toward her, keeping his distance so as not to push her to her feet or to leave.
"Hi," he said simply, the bone falling from his grip as he said it. "Uh," Amun looked around, hoping to find a topic, "is the water nice?" The question was meant honestly. He cocked his head to the side to listen to the answer the way a pup might hear a funny noise.