He was relieved at the sight of the rushing rapids and tumbling waterfall, the sparkle of the water reflected in his hollow eyes, but not as appreciative as he would have been if he had been able to find carcass. A listless, dull expression remained plastered on his face however, betraying no excitement or relief or happiness upon his discovery of the Falls. The scrawny male seemed to waver even as he stood still, as if at any moment the light breeze which trickled through the air would break his skeletal demeanor. He took a nervous step toward the shore of the water and waded in it, letting its coolness rush over his front paws.

Roach emitted not a sigh or grunt or groan of any sort - only painful silence. He hesitantly dipped his pointed skull toward the water and lapped, rejoicing only in the deepest parts of his mind at the rejuvenating liquid which now filled his pores. The young male looked very much like a hound from the grave at this point - his ventures having taken him from the burnt ruins of wildwood and coating him in thick dirt and ash. It was near impossible to tell his light, bluish-silver coloring underneath that grime - that was until the rapids washed over him and cleansed him of only a portion of his bad hygiene.

The beast was unnervingly silent through all of this, laying down in the waters and allowing its playful mirth to dance over him, looking none too pleased. When he stood up once more, he was soaked to the bone - literally. Every part of his protruding spine now became visible as his sloshing fur clung to his skin, dripping torrents down his rib cage and off his stomach. Speaking of which, the water had done little to ease his hunger pangs, which he had still yet to become accustomed too. Poor bastard didn't do a damn thing to take care of himself enough.

In all actuality, it was about time he go hunting again. Nix that. Roach didn't hunt. He was terrible at any sort of strength-requiring, or scheme-requiring endeavor. The best the mongrel could do for himself was scavenge like a vulture - and that he did well. Opportunity to kill rarely came his way, and he dared not risk injury to himself at this point. The last thing he needed was to gain an infection or break a leg.

He fled quickly from the shore, feeling too vulnerable and skittish out in broad daylight. Eagerly he melted into the shadows and approached the jagged cliff side which had allowed for the formation of the waterfall. It's roar was deafening - but Roach calmly ignored it, peaking around corners and examining the outcrop for a path or a sign of death or something. The breeze had carried practically no decomposing odor to his awareness and, weary, it was a sneaking though upon him that he would possibly have to wait a while.

He glanced up. A climb seemed impossible and thus he pushed the thought into extinction. With a hacking, hard exhale, he scouted the area once more, circling around as best as he could, but no luck was to be had.

What a shitty day.