Serpent Lake if you are the healer

though the early afternoon was warm; muggy even, there was a fine layer of mist that refused to relent. obsidian and smoke pelage curls at his nape in the damp heat, the rocks of the lake's shore slick with moss and rainfall. a cursory glimpse is given ahead a bit where a pronghorn lingers, presumably unaware of the predator in his midst, sating his thirst at the lake side. crayfish scatter away, some diving into the water and others to where the rocky shore gives way to a brief dusting of sand and then further to solid earth. it is this path that joaquin follows, paws taking him off the slick rocks lest one of them dislodge. he has no designs of hunting the pronghorn at hand but neither does he want its attention on him. those horns were thick and could no doubt pierce him if the beast decided that fight was his fancy over flight.