For Isabella! Sorry for the wait, got a little distracted. ^^ Set Dec. 14th!

Word Count → 300

Swentzle had yet to truly become a part of the Ichikan community--their scent wasn't even on his fur yet, not fully--and so he felt little remorse in leaving the packlands for a while and venturing out into the lovely Drifter Bay area, which reminded him so warmly of home. He'd left behind all his companions, even Fovea, whom usually served as his guide, preferring to rely on his walking stick and his slowly fading vision. It was early in the evening, yet, but the time would come when the sun would set completely, and his vision would go black. He only hoped he managed to make it to a safe place to spend the night before then.

He'd come far since that morning, farther than he'd ever gone before; but he remembered vaguely coming across the river before, and felt uncomfortable crossing it. He could smell other wolves there, perhaps a pack, and he didn't particularly want to trespass just then. He could go for a dip, though, and the water wasn't too deep, nor the current too fast; he wouldn't be swept away. Leaving his stick on the bank, he pulled his parka over his head and folded it up before wading into the water. Swentzle could feel little fish swimming around his legs, as the current was rather lazy in this part of the river, and as he waded deeper, until he was up to his neck in water and his hair floated around his head, he thought he might perhaps try to catch one. He might not be able to hunt, as that required running down and catching his meal; but there was nothing that stopped him from standing perfectly still, and holding his hands just so, waiting for a fish to swim into them.

Ohhi. c:

Word Count → 290

Swentzle was swaying softly in the current, barely able to keep his balance with the near-constant movement and the need to look as natural as possible in order to fool the rather stupid creatures called fish into believing he wasn't there. He could feel a few of them nibbling on the ends of his hair, but none of them thus far had come close enough to his hands for him to skewer them on claws. He waited for a few long moments more, and finally felt one bump against the tips of his fingers, nibbling curiously on his fur, and he'd just closed his other hand about behind it when the voice broke his concentration, and he flailed, sending any thought of a meal away with the fish as they fled.

It took him a moment to reemerge from the water, soaked now from head to toe, and when he did he finally took in what had been said. "My apologies," He said, brushing the hair back from his face and spitting out a little spout of water. "Is the river yours as well? I didn't mean to trespass." It seemed his hunch about the lands on the other side being a pack were correct; or who else would have 'private land'? He moved a bit deeper into the river, and then began swimming--something he had, luckily, actually learned before going blind--so as to better hear her, without actually getting up on the lands she'd spoken of. He could smell more easily now, as well, and noticed that he had actually gotten quite close; had she not come along, he might have made the mistake of climbing onto the wrong bank, and then where would he be?