moo moo

Aimless wandering was the appropriate term for how he conducted himself on a daily basis, but he preferred to call it something more romantic. Heeding the call of the wider world, perhaps.

Thoroughly waterlogged from the swim, he pulled the cobbled-together raft that carried his belongings onto the shore. Slipped his satchel over his head, shook the worst of the water weight from his fluffy coat. This was a strange little archipelago, the islands lacked the usual cohesion of such a group. It was the bamboo that drew him in, seemingly out of place in this area.

There was someone else here, a monochrome wolf with the same kind of willowy build that he bore. The aloof, loose-jointed ambling gait that drew him closer to the stranger was easily detectable, if the jangling of beads in his ruff and clattering jars in his bag didn't give him away first.

"Pardon me, do you know much about these islands?"

An earnest question, and a bit naive. What were the odds, after all? This place was not claimed, it did not smell of a pack. But perhaps he could learn some history while he was here.