Frayer, the ever restless black wolf, got a mind to walk beyond the place he only just considered home. The place had been stuck in a drought for what feels like an age, and the heat he couldn't take any longer, so he wanted to find a forest with some shade and a creek to stay in until the temperature broke. But as he went along he found not more bearable environments, but only drier and hotter lands, for in fact he was heading into the arid westlands of Alacritis. He continued wandering, hoping in vain he would somehow be taken to a cool and shady place, and he was nearly distraught at being trapped in this hellish hot world that he couldn't escape. Thick black fur caught all of the sunlight and roasted poor Frayer, evaporating away each drop of his endurance, but still he walked on. The intrigue of exploring this new place, an entirely alien kind of ecology to him, lent him some energy to endure, though.
If the natural mirages rising from the bone-dry earth weren't enough, the wolf's dehydration-hampered vision had been drawing flashing, oddly colored shapes to add to the illusions. This wasn't the first time the beast-built-for-cold had gotten so bad as to see this way - indeed he had expected it - but never had it gotten so debilitating as now. There were so many objects blinking into and out of sight, all of them so bright, that it became impossible to tell which were real, and what direction was up. He pushed his stumbling legs onward, refusing to lay down and die in the desert to be scavenged upon by the scaly things.
One bunch of objects appeared before the baking wolf blocking his path that he first dismissed as more hallucinations, but blinking did nothing to make this one disappear. This thing was real, however peculiar it may look. Three thick stalks poked from the ground from a central point, curving slightly out and then straight up. They were green like plantlife, but bore no leaves or bark, and obviously no plants should be able to thrive in this place. From all over the skin of these things protruded sharp pricks, and each stalk was topped with a wilting flower. But it had to be a plant; it wasn't moving like an animal, and wasn't hard, smooth, and dull like a stone, but it's entire existence now was a mystery.
Frayer examined the curious thing, imagining how he could use the bizarre and awful barbed plant in some nasty trap some day, and then he broke it at the base and found a full drink of water pouring from the cut! It seemed these ugly things were hoarders of the sandy westlands' scarce waters, and he supposed their greed may even be the entire reason that the desert existed! He sipped the slightly bitter liquid from that green husk hastily, then pounced the next prickly plant nearby for a second helping, taking joy in stealing away the moisture from the selfish plants. What amazing irony this was, finding his savior from dehydration in the arid lands south of home. And when his belly was full of precious water, he looked at the last of the outlandish spined stalks left standing in the bundle, and decided to take it back north for a treat later, so he smashed it down, pulled needles away from a section he would hold onto, and quickly strode homeward bound, gleeful for the lucky break he was bestowed.
Shortly upon reaching his pack's territory he spotted one of his sisters acting erratic, hopping about, chasing invisible creatures. It was none other than Zara, the once alpha of his Lentajin. Obviously she didn't take the hallucinations brought by dehydration as well as he, and now she was stuck in a stupor. It filled him with joy to see the so mighty woman made prey to the heat, especially when he carried with him just what could save her from it. He decided to lay down here, setting down his prize from the desert, and just watched the show, laughing heartily the while.
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