there's a fog from the past {samael}
08-29-2017, 10:19 PM
The plush grasses were nirvana beneath his toes. After a few days trekking through arid deserts and plateaus, relief flooded his body. Apparently, heeding the advice of others had not become his strong suit. Having decided to venture further from his comfort zone, the golden male was now in the southern area of the continent. The herald could already taste the cool waters upon his tongue. Not to mention, there was the stink of rotting fish. Perhaps it was time to try his hand at fishing these waters. At home, he had been proficient enough. There had been a science to it, in the tiny creek near where they had grown up. Stand stock still, and when you felt something move, grab it. No one needed to see to catch something that was smacking them in the leg. This was a strange land, though. Here, he had no clue what was around him half the time. The sound of moving water attracted the male. This was a far cry from the creek of home. Nevertheless, he continued on. Underfoot, grass was slowly giving way to rough sand. The sound of water was growing louder. Something slimy brushed against his toes. He bent down, whiskers pushed forward to touch the thing. It was smooth and smelled like rot. A dead fish. Well, at least he knew there was some kind of food around if he didn't catch anything. Wading into the river, he let the current pull and tug at him. It definitely got stronger as he moved further in. However, he didn't feel threatened. Curling his toes into the silt at the bottom, he steadied himself knee deep in the water. Burying his feet made it easier to move without slipping like an idiot. Dipping his head, he took a drink. It was cool and refreshing. Exactly what he needed right now. Licking the droplets from his jowls, he held his head close to the surface of the water. His whiskers kept him steady, letting him know where the water was. Now, he just needed to wait for a fish to come to him.
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