Serpent Lake my own summer

Spindly limbs were weary after a night of seemingly aimless wandering. Dark paws had been dragged across the ground as Remort approached the stream. Pale eyes shone bleakly from his shadowed face.

At the edge of the stream, his head lowered and his tongue fell out to drink. Beads of water clung to his whiskers when he was quenched. He felt some energy restored but it could have merely been a placebo.

Frosted gold eyes scanned the skies for avians. Circling ravens or raptors that could guide him toward a kill rather than having more energy expelled in a hunt.

All he saw were songbirds darting to and fro across the blue expanse.