Totoka River It’s Not Much, But It’s Honest Work

Donovan chows on his fish as well. Crunching it between terrifyingly large incisors he raises his brows at her statement. “So you’re native of these lands then.” He hums through a mouthful of fish. Then a chortle. “That makes one of us.”

Then her next question truly makes him laugh. It’s a smooth, deep noise that comes from the pit of his chest. “I know a bit about it. That’s where I’m rebuilding my pack.” With those words he swallows the rest of his remaining fish. Taking this chance to stand and lower his upper body into a arching bow, tail curling high over his hips, he grunts as a powerful stretch overcomes him. Muscles flex as he relaxes himself and takes his stand once more. “Perhaps you should visit sometime.” Is all he says absentmindedly yet mysteriously, beginning to sidle off in the direction of the forest that harbors the infamous bleeding trees.