Duck Lake russian courier

Pheasant clutched in her muzzle, the naiad trekked through the banks of snow with a miserable expression on her features. The chilling wind was enough to cause her irritation, but the snow had risen high enough in some areas that she could scarcely walk through it. Oftentimes, when the woman trailed away from Ankyra Sound, she found herself longing to return immediately. Eos had grown attached to the beach and the dank grottos that surrounded her home. She had found hope in her Alpha and the system with which their pack had been founded. There was never a time that she doubted the ability of what they were hoping to achieve, but she did find their dwindling numbers to be something of an issue. She thought, once, that she could coerce travelers to take up their beliefs and fall into their ranks, but there were very few lone wolves in the frigid cold of winter.

Trailing the edge of the lake with careful steps, Eos heard a peculiar sound from just ahead of her. Lifting her muzzle upwards, her ocean-colored gaze settled on the dark figure of a wolf who had submerged his entire head in the lake. An expression of disgust creased her features at the sight of him, and her leathery lips curled downward in a heavy frown. He did not carry the scent of a pack on his pelt, and so she wondered what it was that brought him to their lands… what was it that he was seeking. Perhaps he was only plagued by a crippling stupidity. It was the only reason she could see in braving the frigid waters.

Trotting forward, the naiad closed the distance between her and the dark figure. Peering at him silently, the woman wondered whether or not she should be sure he wasn’t killing himself. Her mouth was watering with the scent of pheasant wafting up through her nose. Letting out a quiet chuff to the male, Eos narrowed her brows and waited for him to emerge from his drink.