Lake Bismuth "Ill fate and abundant wine."

Their shadows lengthened and followed them like augurs from a dark parallel world.

From time to time the former princekin turned his head to look back at their shadows, indigo italic arabesques on the stubbled ground.

The cooling sky was a salve on his eyes after the sandstorm on the butte. When they upon the plain with its many lakes, he looked to the dark highwayman, @Colt, as if offering him the first drink. It only felt right.

water, an abundance of it. almost too much, if he had to decide. this place was marked by many round pools, all varied hues of darkness beneath the desert sky and its starry heat. he lowered his muzzle; he plunged it into the nearest and drank deeply, tasting for poisonous mineral.
nothing but cool sweetness. briggs filled his belly on it, suspecting that a hunt would be harder; he ambled off to piss soon thereafter, glancing back at lynx as if the young wolf might suddenly disappear into the sand all around them.

The many lakes glittered in the dusk like the floor of a fountain filled with coins.

Lynx only drank after the highwayman did, with watchful eyes on his swart features. Their stomaches sagged with water.

Where he went, Lynx followed. He entertained the thought of pissing into one of the pools, something that made him smile vague and soft into his shoulder.

Back in the vaunted halls of Myros, handservants would bring him drinking water from the mountains - sweet and cold as if gathered from mythic Pirene, the watering-hole of Pegasus.

But he could not piss into the fountains of Pirene.

cameo, please skip

more and more did the savages march upon her land like toy figurines. their numbers grew, as did her fury. 

they came in waves, crashing like ripples on the coast. they invaded, their stench foreign, their purpose unclear. 

she did not like the slobbering mongrels and their corrupt cores. they had come for a reason, and she did not believe it to be of righteous intention. 

far off she watched with a fire burning behind wild eyes. it was but a spark that would soon grow into blazing inferno.

water beaded on the cowboy's mouth as he glanced up toward the blaring heat of the sun. he did not notice the owl, or else he might have muttered something to lynx.
"let's hunt an' hole up," colt suggested. "reckon i ain't cut out fer another'o them storms," he joked.
hard paws scuffed sand-grains and rawbit nose took the air. there wasn't anything to note, so he rolled his shoulders and headed around the first of many lakes.
hunger gnawed at him and curiosity about the other rested on that gnawing gut like a stone.

Colt Briggs spoke again in the strange and boneless language, but the wry twist of his voice made Lynx smile as well, bemused, his smile subtle as the curve of a spoon.

But they set out with intention that went beyond language - their volition trod a path before them and revealed much about the world. Their nostrils flared as they took in the hot air and as their brains parsed it without thinking, old wolf-scent there and fresh rabbit droppings here, a breeze blowing northeast, all of this and more slipping into the unconscious.

Dark figures of mallards sat on the silver surface of the lake, their heads shining bottle green in the heady light.

Pápies, he pointed out, almost to himself. One spread its wings for a moment, flashing blue speculums. When was the last time he had to hunt for himself?

pappies? colt snorted. "roun' these parts, we call those ducks," he offered in helpful, rough connection. the sight of the glimmering birds, fat with summertime bounty, opened a gnawing pit in his rodential belly.
"let's get over there, see if we can flush em sideways instead of up," colt muttered, jerking his head for lynx to circle toward the other side of the water.
briggs himself dropped to ragged belly and stalked forward, attempting to stay hidden in such open space that it felt laughable, and foolish besides.