Duck Lake I'm Marching into Anything

The dark wolf was waded into the lake until the water had come up to his throat. The lapping touch of it had covered his back and soaked into his inky coat, cooling him from the burning summer sun overhead. Brave had trekked across a good stretch of earth before arriving at the lake. It was familiar enough to the dark voyager. He knew that he had passed by the banks of the body of water a week or more before that point. That day had been hot too, he remembered with a small smile. Lazily, the dark wolf lapped at the water on the surface of the lake before he turned back to the shore and plodded toward it. His movements were slow until he was able to climb out of the grip of the liquid and hold his ground on the sandy bank. In the distance, there could be seen a wandering figure. Brave watched from where he stood, dripping water from his lean frame.
 
Journey was likely to be near – at least within the nearest territories – so the dark wolf did not worry much that his sister would fret over his absence. Feeling the spike of social desires, Brave shook his coat free of the loose water and began trotting toward the other wolf. Already, the sun was warming his frame through the wet layer of fur. Just as his lips parted and his tongue lolled from the side, a breeze swept across the lake. It carried with it a small group of ducks who barked a greeting from overhead before flying on. It also cooled the dark young wolf who trailed around the edge of the lake. His Caribbean gaze did not leave the figure up ahead. When Brave had drawn close enough, he lifted his crown and called out to the figure with a cheerful, “hey there!”