Swiftcurrent Creek The shade

Maybe @Simran? (Insert eyes emoji here)

The brindled Saint strays from his canyon. His paws move him down down the eastern mountain and past arrow lake. Following the stream, the brute lowers his massive head, nose working to maybe find any sort of scent. A stranger, Ursus, anyone he can question.
He’s on a mission and Ursus will be his; he’s not sure when, but he knows he’ll find them and it’s only a matter of time.

So, after a few paces, with golden orbs locked onto the rushing water beside him, he scouts the land. Deciding to take a quick break and tip toe towards a shallow end of the rapids. He steps in, water rushing and splashing against thick legs before dipping his upper half to drink. Keeping canary eyes on the horizon, a dark tongue flicks out to catch the chilling liquid. 

In the moment, his mind is blissfully blank. Free of more stressing thoughts; Ursus, war, his pack, his wife, alliances, everything. He lets his guard down for just a few moments, hopefully it doesn’t come back to bite him.