Arrow Lake if i come to baltimore will you cancel on me

Stag knew enough to know of the potentials of drowning (how often had his father or mother growled they had strayed too far, or Ingram worriedly ushered them from the water's edge?), but much like his brother, he was fueled by the risk the game offered.

He splashed wildly, grabbing whatever he could, when he could. His movements were not gentle: while this was a game, it was nobler than that -- and every child knew, in the back of their mind, that games held great significance. As if their survival, and their character, was tied to the game -- win or lose.

He was grabbed roughly on the cheek; his skin snapped as Mesa released, his teeth scraping Stag's soft flesh. Stag did not yelp, despite the pain -- but he lunged roughly for his brother's head now, splashing carelessly as he went.