Neon Rainbows
The rain had given up its onslaught, at least for the moment. The river was swollen, its banks filled to the brim, water threatening to spill over the edge of the flood banks. The wolf stood just inches away from the rushing edge. His toes dug into the soft, wet soil, nails sinking in deeply. He watched the river in its might. He did nothing more than stare at its power. His gaze moved from the spot just before him and then down the river. The falls were no more than a thousand meters from where he stood. The roar was dampened by the distance, but it still drummed loudly in his ears.
Quickly he turned, his head sweeping to the right so he could follow the flow of the water. The wolf's tail flicked like a banner behind him. The wolf of fire and brimstone moved along his elemental opposite. For a man of the flame, he found himself drawn to the liquid. It was pure, fresh, and refined. A natural, beautiful power that was vastly different from what he was accustomed too. A fire raged, and it was without control. Water was predictable, it took the path of least resistance and cared little for what was in that path.
Perhaps the molten wolf was not so different.
The sun shimmered down. It warmed the wolf's mahogany back and sparked over the surface of the water. It made it difficult to see into the river's depths but closer to the edge, he thought he caught the glimpse of fish scales. His tongue slipped from his jaws at the thought of food. He wasn't sure when his last decent meal was, but his stomach was beginning to tell him it had been too long. The river moved too swiftly to fish. His attention had to turn elsewhere. The water's edge told stories of plenty. "Let the darkness sleep"
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