Mudminnow River every hermit crab needs a shell

Fredrick had been wandering along the river, now, for probably an hour.

The white goliath held himself at a consistent pace, paws heaving him forwards as he slunk across the riverbed. Tail swishing against the plant life that sprung up from the waters' edge, the man pondered on the presence of anything edible here, but otherwise continued on, only aimlessly testing the air for scents every now and then.

Again, he raised his nose, allowing the smells of the area to sink into him, and a pack scent registered in his mind. Only a few ways south-west of here, too. A day or two of travel, should he want to say hello -- which was unlikely for the hermit that he was. Instead, it proved to him that there was life within these territories (rather than being lush but otherwise empty, aside from a deer or two, of which he had wandered through once before).

Considering the presence of other wolves here, Frederick wondered if his brother, Adrian, would be around here, somewhere. Taking a deep breath, squeezing sage eyes closed, he held--one, two, three--and released, scanning the area around him.

Maybe Adrian would come to him. But that would be wishful thinking.