Greatwater Lake belongs to the sand

"- you- - - north?" Came the next query, fragmented like the pieces of a puzzle waiting to be arranged. It was almost as if the duo was not conversing at all, instead playing at some guessing game. Tearing the words apart and piecing all the bits back together in a mosaic, each hoping the other could make out the picture hidden in the colorful whirls of glass. 

"Jah!" Imaq nearly crows in her excitement, the exclamation brushed with broad strokes of bright relief at managing to express herself. Feathered paws dusted in snow tap a happy, rythmless tune -- stones tinkling and clacking smoothly against one another. "Imaq, north."

"Ice sea," she tells the muddied silver, aquamarines scanning over his cream-masked features, even though she knows he probably won't know what she means exactly - that the witch is trying, again, to tell him of Kalaallit Nunaat. 

The confection of buttercream cocked her head, ears flopping to the side vaguely, as the ruddied male sat with a reassuring smile which was a language in intself. 

See? his kind expression and content posture asked. I won't hurt you; you can relax too, the molten glint of his strawspun gaze promised. 

Emboldened, the golden piebald crept forward a few steps -- lopped auds twitching to attention though her legs remained lowered. It was intstinctive, a natural drive of the submissive canine's to make herself seem smaller and less threatening though it could hardly be deemed necessary. Despite the years between them, the shepherd's head barely cleared the middle of the yearling's chest -- which only became more apparent as she drew shyly near - and she could not ever recall being deemed a threat. 

The dog's jade optics had gone hard, like verdant gems though they lacked the harshness of stone. Instead they were warm but intense as Imaq approached, blotchy tongue swiping over her chops once, anxiously. 

The gilded gypsy stopped shy of touching him, though a strong breeze would have tangled her coat in his, reaching out hesitantly on tiptoe to sniff at the pulse in the curve of his neck where his scent gathered. Then, her maw darted upwards, mottled tongue brushing against the underside of his chin faster than a mouse's heartbeat. 

"Imaq," the shaman rasped softly as she stepped back, speckled muzzle dipping as if to point towards her own pale chest. Then she straightened, pointing to the varnished, earthen male questioningly. "You?"

thank you for the kudos! <3

also, I wasn't sure if this was confusing or maybe just contradictory? But anywho, as a lil side note: a lot of Imaq's behavior is based on realistic canine/lupine body language. I.e. lowering herself closer to the ground to seem smaller/shorter than Rowan, lowering her ears/eyes, licking her chops, touching his chin, etc.