Fire and Ice

What a beautiful day it was turning out to be. He had traveled far through the lands of alacritis searching for. .. who even knew what to be sure... yet he found that there was pleasure in the solemnity of the waves crashing against the beach, even if it was only a lake. His golden brown orbs took in his surroundings, from the rich blue green of the algea to the expansive foliage that extended behind him. Fugue sat back against the warm sand and decided that he was in a safe enough place to rest for a while in solitude; his mind was giving him a break from the rollercoaster of thoughts that plagued his every move. Hopefully it would stay that way for long enough to enjoy the silence that the lakeshore had to offer him.
The chilled breeze ruffled the ginger fur at the nape of his neck and brought with it the scents of many wolves that he had been avoiding every since he had caught their tracks many days ago. At this familiar feeling, Fugue's shoulders tensed and the fur on his back rose dangerously. Fugue breathed slowly, telling himself that he had nothing to fear and that they were farther than he believed in the first place, trying to avoid losing the serene state of mind that he had established and putting himself in a rather sour mood all the while.
With a snarl and an inward growl at his own stupidity, Fugue let his muscles relax and flopped himself onto the sand in a cloud of dust.