Witch's Marsh the cry of a loon

His time in these lands had been idle. And it had sickened him.

Too long ago he last saw another wolf, truly saw them and spoke with them, filling that void of social necessity. K felt his soul festering, starving, with madness tickling at the edges and starting to grow impatient with the wait. A chill of a different sort had settled in his chest, aching his limbs and bringing the tall boy out of his seclusion in the groves to the east. But it wasn't from the transitioning seasons, the crisp breezes that shook the leaves from their perch. It was deeper.

Tonight, under a clear sky that left the earth cold and deafeningly silent, the wolf lumbered slowly across the soaked lands. Much of his torso shone a brilliant blue light under the moon, though his head stayed hidden in its dark mask. Muds had frosted over, leaving Kukulkan with a thin crunching noise with each step he took. Nighttime, he figured, would be the best time to travel into this new land. He no longer knew anyone, or at least not in this region, and the advantages of both darkness and sleep cycles gave him the benefit of smelling others before they noticed him. Friends he would eagerly seek, interesting strangers too.

But he had learned well from his family - stupidity should never come first.

The low, echoing cry of a nearby loon caught his attention, bringing his idle march to a pause as he looked up and to his left to search for it. Lips pulled back in a warm smile. Oh how critters brought him comfort. A slight pause left him longing for more, and with a low snort he lowered his head to creep ever so carefully into the darkness, into the drenched, cold marsh.

@Ibis