Emberflame Ridge euthyphro dilemma

His tongue had lifted only moments before the water ran red between his legs. It was a curious shift, one that he did not immediately take notice of until it had whisked itself away, but by then the water was stained, diluted. Dirtied. The acrid tinge was faint but enough for him to swing his attention upstream to find the source of such a peculiar sign.

He was trekking upstream by the time it had stopped, his nose working and deciphering any trace of just what was happening ahead and out of sight. It could have been anything, a fell beast taking its last moments in the cool waters; a trap; or in this very case the sight of another pale figure between long branches of fallen logs that had no hope of damming up the creekbed.

A low grumble resonated deep in the heart of his dark chest as he surveyed her, though he made no move to remove himself from the waters. It would have figured that even here he couldn’t avoid the company of another; he had hoped for a free meal, not someone washing away the remnants of such. Sharply, he turned away from her—perhaps he could escape yet before she took note of him.