Totoka River it’s yours and it’s mine.

he paused his splashing in chagrin, then clambered up onto the bank, rushing water and sopping. "e-eat anything y-you w-want," lestan mumbled when he had spat the bit of bone back into his wretchedly filthy paw.
his own appetite had fled. he watched the strangers with baleful curiosity, stepping up again nervously to spray the surrounding area with cirlicues of water.
he shut his eyes hard! hard! against the blinding memory of hot light and a swooping golden bird, a lake of fire, a galloping stag.