Drops of water would be slung from ebony silk as the man shook his frame vigorously, freeing it of all droplets. He would wade entirely out of the pond, tiny tadpoles and fish swarming his brawny paws as he lifted them one by one. Ghostly pale gaze was set on the odd tree before him, his curiosity peaking as he continued studying it. Why was it here, on a small island, in the middle of this pond? Nature had an odd way of doing things, and despite his rugged personality he did enjoy taking a moment to observe the wilderness. When he had come completely out of the water he would shake each paw individually to free them of droplets. Once dry he would begin carving the tree with his claws, sharpening and molding them into the perfect weapons while keeping himself preoccupied. "Speech"
