Arrow Lake one breath, it'll just break

The quiet was becoming—lost in her search for inner peace and answers, the she-wolf slowly shifted closer to the ground, her slender form stretching out, back curled to the oncomer of the lake, copper ears tuned toward any hint of sound across the still waters.

But it was a noise from behind that drew her attention, arching her neck over a shoulder as her eyes raked over the familiar form of the Imperator. She was surprised—and then a blush rose—for only then did she consider he had wanted to show her this place. And it should not have been entirely surprising to her that he stood there now.

She faltered for a moment—perhaps she should leave him to his thoughts and lake, for was this not where he sought solace? Flustered—she was about to apologize, to give way and allow him whatever he had come here for, when the clipped tone of his voice greeted her, cold and impersonal.

She blinked. And then she felt a cloud of annoyance—and with a nod to the man, and a murmured “Imperator,” she turned back to the lake, unmoving as had been her plan before. Because now, just to be petty, she was going to have to stay here at his favorite lake until her body became dust in the ground just to spite the fact he had become such a cold stranger.