Arrow Lake the beast of beauclair

hunkering down for the night along the skirts of god's masonry, the sunpires, stigmata paused for a time at the shore of arrow lake for a bit of fishing. it was a poorly realized plan - a whim, to be most accurate - as he was neither proficient in the art, nor did the ink-darkness lit tentatively around him by mega-distant stars prove for an ideal setting to his chosen task. fishing by moonlight, for a wolf, seemed ludicrous to someone like him, but the urge to do it anyway currently outbid his opinion on the task as they battled for dominance over his actions.

he waded slowly into the lake, appearing as a dark, sturdy shadow half consumed by the silver-green ripples of a moonlit reservoir. and then he stilled, peering into the opaque waters as if he could see; waiting for... something.

@Anwara