Tuktu Weir And you might have to tell me again

While Kynareth began to drink there was a short series of splashes from somewhere up ahead on the dam. Thinking he could move undetected Valour had gone for one of the Beavers working on the side of the blockage, the choice was fueled by desperation and a loss of temper so it lacked in careful forethought which had earned him a slap to the side of the jaw when he'd missed the second beaver working beside his target due to it being in his blindspot. The attack hadn't hurt but was unexpectedly fast catching him off guard so he stumbled backwards clumsily slipping on the rocks and falling without an ounce of grace into the water below the damn. When he got his feet underneath him he cursed under his breath and backed away from the dam before more of the tail swinging creatures could join their buddy outside and knock him senseless. Walking around the outer side of the den along the shore he finally spotted Kynareth, knowing who it was before he could inhale the wolfdog's scent by the stripes and tail that was curled just as quirkily as he remembered. 


Staring a moment longer than he should have at the uniquely shaped appendage he watched the man drink while ducking back into as much cover as he could beside the dam crouching amidst the branches with russet and brown agouti as camoflauge, lifting his nose in hopes the breeze would send him shifting his way so he could see if the man still reeked of pack. He was in danger on his own with how little he'd been eating, he could feel his fur loosening and skin growing tight around his ribs the gnawing reminder to eat was actually a dull ache like his body was forgetting what it mean to crave food. The failure to do much aside from scavenge lately had made him desperate....but he was wary of how his disappearance would be taken. Leaning on the fact he hadn't been around long with The Saints and done his share while there to make it a home (and ignoring the unrevealed snakey behavior before he'd gotten to know Kynareth) he cleared his throat to catch the man's attention while stepping away from cover and inching closer his tail swishing a singular time at his ankles "Kynareth. How nice that you're the first familiar face I meet" still as proper as ever though there was something more smooth and perhaps teasing to his tone as his eyes flitted to the man's tail long enough to be noticed before returning to a respectful place avoiding much eye contact as social customs demanded while waiting to gauge his reaction.