Slithering, slippery snake plants
Explore and herb gather!
The other wolf noticed his approach after all, and they didn’t hesitate to rush over to him where he lay. Aratós silver gaze hung on them with an excited intensity. They were a delicate sort of wolf, dare he even say pretty in their features. "I am alive,” he giggled, his tail thumping against the wet ground. He continued to rub the side of his face back and forth in the coolness of the mud. After a moment, he sneezed the dirt from his nose and lifted his soiled head. A momentary wave of vertigo blurred his vision, and a dry tongue slipped from his mouth once more as he panted.
Arató contemplated his company’s second question, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Pain was not something he had ever given much thought to. Dotting on such things usually seemed to be far too much of a distraction from life. “Hmm,” he hummed, pulling himself up so that he now lay on his stomach with his legs underneath him. He was sore, the muscles in his limbs pulling angrily at his bones. The empty pit of his stomach gnawed at his insides. His head pulsed with a dull aching. Yet, he did not think any of this was the pain the other wolf meant. Arató did not think he was injured. “No, nothing hurts”.
Arató crawled clumsily closer to the river, just enough that he could stretch his neck and lap at its waters. After a moment, he turned curiously to the young wolf with water and mud dripping from his muzzle. “What have you found, river gardener?” Arató gestured towards the basket in which he had seen the other wolf stowing the plant they had been fondling over moments before.