Greatwater Lake they'll nosh you up

Traveling always made his stomach funny — not sick, per se, but the idea of food after long days of walking was about as appealing to him as eating his own foot. Whim supposed it wasn't, strictly speaking, the most survival-oriented impulse his body had, as he certainly needed something to keep his energy up, and soon. But instead the large wolf sat on the edge of the lake, listlessly eying a couple of deer on the other side. His tail beat side to side against the ground as he watched them mill about; it would be all too easy to get one, he knew. He just couldn't be assed to move.

Yawning more than a little lazily, Whim arched his back in a stretch before walking his feet forward to let the pads of his paws brush the water, his eyes following the ripples as they spread out into the lake and then dissipated. Now laying on the ground, he huffed a sigh and rested his chin on his leg, still watching his should-be dinner grazing.

Whim hadn't traveled particularly long, he thought, and he wasn't feeling particularly weak, so it wasn't a dire circumstance — it was simply that he had a fairly easily won meal right before him and knew he was going to pass it up in favour of lazing about the lakeside. The sun was setting on the horizon, dipping just below the horizon like a giant egg yolk, zaftig and yellow, poised to burst against the jagged silhouette of mountains in the distance. As he watched the yolk of a sun burst, warm saffron leaking out and filling the crags around the clouds in the sky, and dripping further still on the landscape until his own fur was tipped in gold and the grass took on a bright, sickly hue in the half-light.