Duck Lake ravens, not ducks

With the cold months well in swing, Alastor had decided to try and find a new place to settle. He'd met a wolf in the last place he's visited, and upon leaving, had found himself heading towards what appeared to be a lake. A lake that still held ducks, which he found odd. Should they not have traveled to a warmer climate by now? The web-footed birds were, truly, stupid. They possessed the feathers to keep their bodies from absorbing water, but did not hold claim to a thick fur to keep the cold out. "Πόσο ηλίθιος," he murmured to himself, having yet to notice the other form nearby. He'd arrived only moments after her trek into the water, and had not known to listen in for any sounds she'd made.

When his attention had finally been drawn from the noisy birds, and he'd gone closer to the lake, the dark form came into sight. He saw her coat appeared to be wet, making it look darker than it originally was. "Salutations," he greeted, approaching cautiously. His posture was friendly, despite his caution, not wanting to come off as some overly aggressive brute.