Firestone Hot Springs Texas heat

Balthazar hated summer as much as any dark-furred wolf. His coat was thick -- not so much in these months -- but it was clearly made for a climate much colder and more severe than this, and now only served to make him pant and struggle along like he was wearing a sheepskin on his back. The sun, hung up high in the very-blue sky, seemed to grow hotter as he came from the eastern foothills and dropped to flatter land.

But as the pale wolf continued along, the pads of his feet growing warmer and his tongue lolling heavier than before, he began to suspect that it wasn't the sun's doing his demise at this moment. The scent of water filled his nostrils, accompanied with the warm tang of steam, and Zar realized he was in a bed of hot springs before actually coming across one.

Green eyes peered unhappily towards the first of many murky, heated springs, and his lip curled with the realization that it would be a hassle to go around just to avoid the heat. His fur prickled at the thought, but he began to trudge on without thinking too much about it. Planning wasn't his strong suit anyway. But along the way he began to wonder if actually taking a dip in the hot waters would be a good thing or not.

Hey, you! *tackles*

Each time she finished a patrol, Koontz took a break on the bluff overlooking the hot springs. There she sat just now, gray tail wound around her haunches, panting heavily as a result of both the long circuit and the hot sunshine. While she rested, she lifted her right forepaw and inspected a small gash on the underside of her paw. Tempted to lick (or even chew) it, she put it back down on the ground. Wish we had a medic, she thought.

Deciding that a visit to one of the territory's water sources was in order—she could use a drink and she also needed to cleanse the cut on her paw pad—Koontz rose and began to turn toward the wood. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and turned toward it instead. Pale eyes clapped upon a white wolf moving toward the hot springs below. She tried to place him—she knew many burly white wolves, after all—but he appeared to be another stranger.

Deciding that the hot springs might actually be the best place to wash the dirt out of her paw, Koontz changed course and began to pick her way down the edge of the plateau toward the spring. "Hey there," she called in an amiable voice as she descended, her voice sounding a little breathless. She wanted to look up to see if she'd caught his attention, yet Koontz's eyes remained trained on her own feet as she carefully navigated the sloped pathway leading down from Blacktail Deer Plateau.

Otherwise focused on trudging along, he didn't notice the descending wolf over his shoulder until she had called down to him -- drawing his acidic eyes glaringly towards her. A very light tang to her scent gave him the notion that she was injured, if only slightly, though he couldn't tell where as she had carefully came down to his level and was closing the distance between them with a light gait, favoring her right leg.

Though he noticed, he didn't comment; and he chose to remain still as she approached, Balthazar's body positioned lazily, if not slightly disinterested. It was much too hot for socialization, he thought. Still, he didn't threaten her or even ask her to get lost, which was at the forefront of his brain and would find itself spoken if she proved irritating in any fashion.

She also smelled of a pack, which made him leery of their surroundings. "What?" he asked immediately when she was near enough for him not to raise his voice, his eyes scanning the tall path she'd just come down before returning fluidly to her.

He regarded her coolly, not putting any effort into an amenable front. This made Koontz slow, then stop while still a dozen yards away. She licked her jowls slowly, ears pricked and tail swaying thoughtfully behind her as she studied him. Although he did not appear particularly friendly, nor did he seem threatening, despite his poisonous green gaze and his large build. Her pale eyes, previously shining with interested warmth, now appeared guarded as she pondered his brusque question.

"I like to check out strangers passing by my borders," she said coolly. "I'm Koontz, one of the leaders of the pack that lives on the plateau." A single ear twitched backward as if to point at it. "You don't have business with Dragonwatchers, do you?" she asked casually, playing the diplomat. Her pale eyes remained steadily pinned on him, wondering how he would react to her mild interrogation.

She respected his personal space, which was enough to keep him from being agitated for the time being. His tail didn't wag and his ears hardly moved from the erect position they currently held -- he didn't even fidget on his feet, standing eerily still as she responded easily enough to his acknowledgement of her.

Balthazar never paid much attention to words (perhaps too vain to care for anyone's voice but his own), but he did study her; appreciating her long legs, as he preferred his women with stature, and her pale eyes the color of a frozen, foamy sea. "Nope," he answered, the huff in his voice gone and replaced with a blatant carelessness as he realized she might just be a recruiter. Females often were.

"You call your lot the Dragonwatchers?" he asked, unable (or unwilling) to hide the condescension in his tone. A smirk crossed his muzzle, as he cared little that his teasing was coming off less playful and more cruel. Perhaps it was his deep, gravelly voice that seemed so humorless that made it so. "Tell me, have you seen any dragons lately?" He chuckled, honestly or patronizing, it was difficult to tell.

Had she taken after her mother, Koontz might have reacted hotly to the thick condescension in the stranger's tone. Luckily, she took much more after her father in that department. She mentally smoothed her petticoat, sipped in a calming breath, and maintained her diplomacy despite his teasing. With that said, she felt a slight burning under her proverbial collar, as well as an unpleasant heat slithering down her spine. March Owl's small presence in her blood, after all.

"Yes," she answered simply. She cocked her head, eyes pinning on that smirk of his. "And of course not. Have you never heard of a metaphor before?" she shot back at him, cool despite the retort. She smiled, wondering if he liked the taste of his own medicine as she lightly patronized him in turn.

He did not like the taste of his own medicine. It was clear on his face—a little bewilderment, a thundercloud of anger and alarm—he was surprised mostly then angry secondly because it had been good and now he somehow felt like the dumbass. But Balthazar would never take something like that. He was too good-looking.

Cocking his head back at her, his expression had hardened into a sneer, a non-threatening show of his canines. All laughter on the subject (on his end) had stopped. "What's so great about watching for a mythical creature?" he asked rhetorically, because he obviously knew (or assumed) that that was not what they were doing.

"So what then, do you and your merry little band of Dragonswatters, stand for? Miss Metaphor," he added snidely, righting his head again, eyes glowering poignantly.

Your first paragraph made me chuckle heartily.

She seemed to have pushed the right buttons. He looked surprised for a beat, then a thundercloud darkened his brow. Koontz felt a little disconcerted—he was a stranger and she had no idea if he might have a temper (My guess is yes, she thought)—but she stood her ground. Her ears tipped ever so slightly backward as he fired several sarcastic questions at her. The heat still prickled along her shoulder blades, yet she somehow felt calmer when he referred to them as Dragonswatters. Not only was the word funny in its own right, it sounded ridiculously puerile, especially in his deep voice.

"The idea is that we are the dragon and that we watch over our treasure: our members and our lands," Koontz answered. "My name is Koontz," she reminded him as he snidedly referred to her as Miss Metaphor. "Or Ms. Redleaf-DiSarinno, if you're going to go that route." She paused, then: "Do you have a name?" She resisted randomly assigning him some childish nickname. Koontz's voice was light but her pale eyes were bold as she looked straight at him.