Otter Creek sleep, soldier

He would stay alert, but hunger drew the man in to the water and once it was high enough to slick his belly, maybe cascade over his back with its flow, Drusk was paddling. The fish shot away from him as he went. His dark fur became diaphanous and ruddy as it soaked and floated.

Reaching as he went, Drusk paddled out, around, and back to a patch of the swallows, where he crawled out. The water was frigid enough to make him forget about his lower back, but when he shook, he was sharply reminded.

Coughing and bowing towards the embankment, he tried to hide the grimace of pain that unfurled across his dripping face.