Otter Creek A machete that cuts my cheek

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It did not take her very long to peg him as abnormal. The mere gestures she usually received came, eventually, and with anything except for any measure of thrill in them. Even his dark stare, which she met unabashed, lacked energy and any indication of a great many things. Amekaze was momentarily caught off guard by the sight of his dark eyes; she was so used to wolves who were a tad more expressive (for the better or worse) than he.

She had paused, narrowed her eyes a bit more, and sought to understand whatever she could manage. His scent said little besides "not here, obviously" and sights left her with many mysteries. So, she moved closer, breathing deep. Passing through? she asked first, having moved her paws to the edge of the waters just a few meters down from him. She had encountered the other lone young wolf several days back near the mountain, and wondered what the occasion was for finding another -- although he seemed older than the tawny female she was recalling, and not so skinny, too.