Whitefish River radioactive

The sound of bubbling creeks and rushing rapids was oddly soothing to the young hybrid, and he frequently sought out the comfort of water during his travels. He preferred to travel alongside rivers when he could, but would often abandon the route when he began to scent too many wolves nearby. Due to his coyote appearance, the lanky youth tended to dodge crossing paths with other wolves as much as possible – he would deal with conflict if it ever arose, but preferred to avoid it. Although his long, thin legs made him taller, Styx definitely lacked the strength that most wolves possessed – he was sure even the scrawniest wolf would be capable of kicking his ass. A low ‘woof’ caught his attention, brows furrowed as he focused his gaze on the body attached to the voice. He mentally cursed himself for not noticing her scent on the wind, but kept his seafoam eyes locked onto the young female. Remaining where he was, the hybrid offered her a crooked smile as he decided whether or not he should leave before they had a chance to start a conversation. Females were definitely more fun than running into males, but Styx wasn’t sure if he was in a chatty mood or not. Cocking his head slightly to one side, he remained where he was but kept his dark lips glued shut, although he did not waiver his gaze from the striped female.