Roots Grow Deep

Gods, it was hot. Hopefully the nearby willows would offer some respite from the heat that was plaguing the land. Already the plants were wilting, he could scarcely find relief from the sun in the plains, and even the cool caves of the Gorge were warming up by a certain point of the day unless he went deeper, but he didn't want to have to hide in the darkness until the Fall, so he forced himself to go out, flitting from one point of shade to the next until he arrived. The willows draped over the ground, the tendrils gently touching the earth. So far, they looked to be holding their own against the season, though the tops appeared to be browning. Would this sort of heat even be able to topple a tree? He wasn't sure. The willows seemed close enough to the pond that their deep roots should be able to draw in enough moisture to keep them living to endure the summer heat.

The piebald male made his way beneath a willow to take the scorching sun off his back, and he approached the pond that lay just hairs beyond the willows' tendrils. Brows furrowed as he observed the water. Even the water line seemed to have receded some, the usually moist bank where it appeared to be a bit higher before appeared to be drying with hairline cracks spreading throughout. Would the pond be victim to drought? Only time would tell, he supposed.