The silver-furred werewolf rather enjoyed the lazy drift of the boat, but he grew excited for the faster waters, finding it fun to navigate his way down the river. Of course, there was always the danger of crashing into a rock of something of that nature, but Rurik was quite experienced in these matters. River or ocean, it mattered little—if one could sail a large ship, the smaller boat was of little trouble. The other canine seemed rather impressed with Rurik's abilities, to which the silver werewolf offered a rather sheepish smile, his coal-dipped ears folding half-mast. Language was a love to him, really, and he found sheer joy in it.
The younger canine responded with a flurry of questions, to which Rurik laughed loudly, grinning from ear to ear as he shook his head at the rapid-fire questioning. It was a thing he was rather used to, but Rurik would never grow arrogant for others' fascination with his origins. To him, they were quite plain, really. "It is not always frozen—just when it gets really cold," the wolf said with a laugh. "It is a place like any other, I guess. But it is great in the winter, freezing cold! the wolf declared with a laugh. "It took about two months, I suppose. Can take three, sometimes you get here in just four weeks. All depends on the weather," he said merrily, twirling his finger and pointing at the sky with a grin.
"Oy, hang on good and tight now," the Russian warned, seeing that they were coming to slightly faster water now. "Might get a bit rough," he added, though he grinned brightly to show he was not afraid. This was familiar to Rurik; he had sailed the ocean in many storms.
<style type="text/css">
.rurik-bottledrage b{font-weight:bold; color:#BC2B26; letter-spacing:1px; font-family:trebuchet ms, sans-serif; font-size:13px;}
.rurik-bottledrage p{text-indent:35px; padding:0px 15px 15px 15px; margin:0px;}
</style>
[/html]