Otter Creek sleep, soldier

The storm had a fat tail, fading out slow as if reluctant to leave, dragging its heels and revealing in its wake an achingly clear night sky. The faintest smears of powder blue on the horizon heralded a new day. Underfoot, the hailstones had started to melt and disappear into the earth.

They lingered for a moment in their makeshift shelter. The two of them were skeptical and perhaps cowardly, but cowardice was what had enabled for them to have lived this long. It was easy for pack wolves to condescend and preach about valor, but beyond their borders there was no such standard.

Thankfully, it did not take long for them to find water. From time to time, Gavrel looked back to see if the nameless boy followed. In the weak light he could finally see the brown of his fur against his dark spine, countershaded like a marine predator. Despite the wound @Drusk was rangy, his movements fluid enough.

He arrived at the bank, flinched as he stepped ankle-deep into the shallows. The water was so cold, it made his bones ache.