its coarse and rough

Change was supposed to be a good thing, but as Ophie stood beside the sloshing river she couldn't help but feel as though it was the same guff, different sand. Try as she might she just couldn't shake her worries and fears, no matter where she went everything felt bad. Off as though the world was tipping to the side, trying to shake her off and throw her off into the void. She liked to travel and the brisk sea air that ruffled her sand dappled coat felt nice after her journey through the desert. Even with her makeshift mud and sand screen and the colder autumn weather it was hot as all heck, getting so bad at times she thought about turning around and heading home. But to what? Faces that ought to be safe and familiar to her felt like strangers, the looks in their eyes making Ophie all anxious and on edge, like they saw her for what she truly was. A coward, a waste of space and fur.

With a tired huff she dipped her paw into the flowing river. The water was brown and mucky, kicked up sand made it unsuitable for drinking. But that didn't stop Ophie from dunking her head beneath the surface, her nostrils flaring as she held her breath and closed her eyes. The sounds that met her ears were somehow both loud and quiet at the same time, present and unescapable, right in her head as the water flowed on by.  She remained as she was, ass in the air, head held underwater as she just listened, letting the sounds fill smother all other senses and thoughts.