Lake Rodney in an empty field and

Women. The plagued and haunted him, it seemed.

Yet...this one was far different from the pregnant one. She did not charge or bare teeth. She spoke in a kind way, smiled at him. Her words were full of fancy ideas about gods and songs. Neither did he have much experience with.

For a moment, all he could do was stare with his scarred and wounded face. Water dripping off of it and back into the lake where it belonged.

No gods. A soft shake of his head as droplets went every which way. Cleaning an attack. He turned his face to expose the right side, teeth marks on the fat of his cheek. Perhaps hidden by his now wet fur or not nearly as bad having been rinsed but...he felt them. He knew it was there.