The Heartwood All the debts I owe

It was only chance that the warrior drew himself toward the river water so that he could drink. It would be a long journey, he estimated. It was wise to keep himself hydrated on the water sources that he met along the way.

Foxfur drew to the river and stepped into the chilling water. His paws sank into the soft mud and clay at the bottom. His torso dipped into the river until he had drawn himself in to his elbows. From there, he lapped at the top of it. The weary brown gaze shifted from the river to a shape just ahead of where he soaked his paws. It looked like a trim wolf with pale fur – the light concealed some of their shape from his eyes.

The warrior lifted his head up and chuffed out to them, hoping that he might draw their ear or alert them to his presence. Foxfur did not want to spook the other wolf. It seemed they had only just stopped to drink in the water, as he had. Mindful that he was elbow-deep in the riverbed, the warrior sludged himself onto the shore and shook his fur. Then he turned himself toward the stranger and took a few steps in their direction.