Ankyra Sound Any wind means we're running

Ephraim does not respond to him for a long time, but Tux doesn't linger on it.  The young skayona is correct in his observation of his friend; Tux indeed saw things as either black or white, yes or no.  There was no room for maybes or shades of gray in his world, so when Ephraim said that he wanted the grotto, Tux vowed internally to do everything in his power to make it happen.  His motivations were, ah, not always the most pure — mostly Tux was just sick of seeing the outsiders always showing up so close to home — but if it would achieve something that Ephraim also desired, so be it.  

He spends some time with his nose to the ground, trying to suss out any particular scent.  That black-masked stranger had passed through here but her claim — if she was staking one — was not (yet) strong.  It is belatedly that Ephraim speaks to him again, and he has to remember what they'd even been talking about, as he'd been quick to forget about the conversation altogether.  I don't know, he says, moving back again to the water's edge.  Do you think it's safe to touch?  To swim in?  To drink?  The last one he wasn't about to try, but without waiting for an answer he stuck the very tip of one of his extra toes (that he could afford to lose, if it came down to it) out to touch the water.  

It didn't burn his flesh off immediately, so he turned and gave a shrug of his shoulder.  Guess so.