What a Lovely Night

The dark pelted male had become absorbed in the water source he was drinking from. He had lowered his guard while doing so and didn't realize he had, either. Whenever he came to a new area of the world, he ended up being fascinated with how the pure liquid tasted. Secretly, the male would compare differences and similarities of places he had been before. It was only to see which ones tasted the best or the worst. In this case, the water was pure enough in his eyes and on his taste buds, that he didn't want to stop drinking! What a strange observer he was.
All good things must come to an end, and it did for him a moment or two later. Since his guard had been lowered, he was startled to hear a voice nearby. The tones indicated that it was a female, one older than a yearling but not up in age. The assumption was done in a flash, for he ended up being startled by the pretty voice and created an aquatic commotion. His massive head hit the surface of the water, making him breathe in some of what he meant to take in as air. Loud sputters and splashes from his front paws making contact with the water to regain his balance could be heard behind the foggy curtain and a low grumble that evolved into a cough left his large chest. The male ended up falling back on his round haunches, and a soft "Oomph" echoed in the small area of the willows.
Water dripped from his facial fur and the ears that had folded against his cranium. Annoyance etched itself across his face as he started to look for the source of the voice. Where, exactly, had the pretty tones come from? He was going to find out, one way or another. Slowly, he rose from his forced spot on the ground and his large paws began to pad in Chrysanthe's direction (to his right).
From where the Valhallan Gamma stood, a piece of fog had been taken away in front of her. The willows and their massive trunks and connecting roots stood out plain as day, allowing the moonlight to shine in that spot. With the help of nature working its magic, his shadow of a body stepped from the dense atmosphere and he materialized as the moon hit him. His primary coat color, a deep ebony, made his glacial-blue eyes with the silver outward tips shimmer more than usual. He stepped out with one massive paw, which spread out against the ground with his weight added. One would notice the way his muscles moved beneath his fur just from the movement, but they would not want to focus on just one part.
The stranger's ears pricked forward, white outlining the inner edges. His massive head and broad shoulders broke through the fog as the rest of his large body followed. His hind paws matched his front - all four were dipped in silver, as if he had stepped in paint. His tail had faded silver at the tips of the fur, of which he swept behind him lazily. White fur was faded at his front elbows and the fur of his upper hind legs, catching the moon's light by just a bit. The scruff on his neck and shoulders rolled with each long step he took, indicating the flurries of white and dark grays mixed together. Slowly, his body took in air and his large lungs then gently pushed it out.
As he slowly walked through the small gathering of willows, Garth's frame stood out against his background. It was oblivious to him, for he was more focused on the russet-faced female in front of him. Her one good blue eye and her other white one made him want to keep her gaze for more than a minute. His own North Pole eyes blinked slowly and his forty-inch frame stopped a few inches in front of Chrysanthe. "You rang, m'lady?" he asked softly, tones deep with a rich baritone. "I hope I am not seeing or hearing things and that you are real...The fog can play tricks on the mind, both tempting and cruel." He raised a wet eyebrow, wondering if she was the mirage that had spoken to him.