Stank
Kitsune
04-11-2021, 12:28 PM
Apollinaris Galanis Molon Labe Luckily for him, the bog was mostly frozen. One good thing about this damned weather, he supposed. Tree roots and tall grasses and other vegetation still stuck up from the snow, but at least it was easier to navigate overall. Patches of wet snow and/or ice were scattered about, and he did his best to avoid those areas. He was thirsty, but nowhere near the amount of thirst required to drink from those patches of boggy water. Even in winter, he could tell these waters were stagnant and full of amphibian things. His nose turned up from the probably smell this area had in the middle of summer, and his pace increased. He could see a split in the land ahead, which hopefully meant clean, fresh water. Pink tongue stuck out to whet his lips, swallowing what precious saliva he had. Apollinaris eagerly moved down the bank to the river, toeing the line between ice and moving water. It was cold and oh-so wonderful on his tongue. He drank to his desires, pale gaze lifting to glance ahead. When satisfied, he lifted his head and continued to look ahead, nostrils twitched. He had stumbled upon claimed land, it seemed. Teeth grit as he stood still, an ache in his shoulder drawing away any potential thoughts of his clan. He rolled the joint with a sigh, internally damning the weather yet again. The bear had solidly gotten him on the shoulder and even though the flesh was mostly healed, his joint still ached in the cold. Another sigh before his eyes dropped to the water, bending to take another, quick drink. |
Current time: 11-21-2024, 08:39 PM
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