Whitefish River Paranormal whacktivity

[size=x-small]I hope you do not mind another thread in such short time. I thought it would be interesting.[/size]

The air made of ghosts also pulled a sheet over Yuda's unearthly eyes. The male could see nothing before him other than a slight transition into a darker grey here and there. He did not watch his feet, for walking was already a consumption of energy he had no desire losing. Being lazy could also be a descriptor, though the boy would not even produce a shrug if it was hung in front of his face — or, more appropriately, laid down a few feet in front of him (although, he probably would not care about that anyway).

And, apparently, in front of him also laid a wet substance he had been partnered with many times recently. His right paw plopped down while his body jerked back in an instinctual reaction, something Yuda had been bred and raised to fight against. He learned not to flinch, not to startle, not to wince in pain — freedoms that every other wolf was granted to have, but the boy was not aware of this. What emotions and actions he output were natural to him.

So, as it was, yet another small trickle came into play; but this time, it was a cacophony of colors: confusion, intrigue, and anger prevailed as he peered down at his wet foot as if trying to decipher what had just happened within his mind. Lasting no more than ten seconds, Yuda snapped back to the state that was devoid of emotion. Looking up, his body lurched forward as he moved on — which happened to be further in the river while the liquid sloshed gently with his steps.