The Floodlands awara hoon

drat! nothing.

he came up empty-jawed and a little tetchy, shaking his head to clear the water. a sudden voice assaulted his ears, and he whipped 'round, looking. his eyes were irritated but not unfriendly, and soon landed upon a dainty young wolf, colored in grays and blues almost the tinge of a summer sky.

aditya dipped his muzzle in greeting, smiling sardonically, his chin still dripping. what brings you here? he asked, gesturing faintly around him—them—at the saturated ground and biting bugs.

it'd been a while since he'd seen another wolf.