Shadowwyn Moor life eternal

The snap of a distant twig did little to startle the explorer. It was probably a deer or a fox or some other creature that called this moorland home. At least, that's what Kenai told himself until the scent of caribou blood flooded his nostrils, and with it the unmistakeable musk of wolf. 

Move, you oaf! But the young man found he could not. As if his paws were iced to the streambed, only his head turned to regard the approaching shadow, gaze resting on the grisly wound where an eye once was before the stranger bent to drink. Kenai did not need to be told twice to know that this wolf was not worth messing with.

"Hi! I uh - was just taking a dip. As you do," he broke the silence awkwardly, forcing his legs to wade towards the bank.