Cricket Creek Bog hippopotamus

vaguey vague

after an assault that had been, at least in his mind, completely illogical, aditya had stayed clear of any place with any trace of that woman, sight or smell or sound. this was still too close for comfort, but he could only go so far in a given time. getting old, as they said, was indeed a bitch.

now, picking his way through yet another bog, the sight of pale fur and that pack-scent, he froze, feeling his new wounds burn, his belly tighten.

and then, disbelief. pharaoh? aditya called out, cocking his head. he took a step or two closer, but kept his distance overall; if he was indeed allied with the wolves that his attacker associated with, he didn't want to tempt fate—old friend or not.

friends didn't always stay friends.