I got my mind made up and I can't let go.
I'm killing every second 'til it sees my soul.
I'll be running, I'll be running,
'Til the love runs out, 'til the love runs out.
And we'll start a fire, and we'll shut it down,
'Til the love runs out, 'til the love runs out.
- OneRepublic - Love Runs Out

July 3rd; Evening, moments before sunset; Partly Cloudy; 64° F/18° C

Convincing his sister to come along with them had been one thing, but spending the hours traveling with Namid was something else entirely. Even from the get-go, when he had first met her, it was apparent she was different and, most importantly, nothing like Bishop when it came to discussing ordinary things - favorite colors, what their opinions were on fish and rabbits, and other silly, light-hearted things like deciding where to go and why. When they had come to the edges of the Whisper Marsh, Rook slowed to a halt, his muddied toes submerged in the shallows. He looked back to find his sister resting on her own and it was then that Rook turned to the woman whose optimism and willingness to help had brought them here.

He lowered his head briefly to gaze down at his reflection on the glass-like surface of the Marsh. The sun was setting and, soon, there would be no valid reason to continue, no matter how much Rook wanted to venture on. Shaking the droplets from his chin he eyed the tree line made up of tall and impressive firs and cedars. They probably should have made a turn somewhere within the forest but both thirst and hunger had gotten the best of him.

Rook advanced forward to dip his hind feet into the water, relishing the cool mud beneath his pads and in-between his toes. He glanced over his shoulder to check and see if his sibling was close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation, not that he wanted to share a few secrets but he just wanted to make sure his curiosity and other questions could be voiced without ridicule or mockery. "So..." It had been hours since he had last said anything to either of the two ladies, and voicing that single word made him sound and seem a tad more awkward than he would have liked. The crickets' songs did little to buffer his sudden conversation opener. "How did you learn how to fish? If it's... okay to ask?"

Her sudden movement to go deeper into the Marsh had somewhat startled him, but seeing her head float easily above the water as she submerged the whole of her body had him at ease. Surely if something - a swamp monster perhaps? - had grabbed a hold of her from beneath the surface, she would have yelped (right?). Rook lowered himself so that he laid down and immersed his underside, elbows, and ankles in the coolness of the shallows. Namid answered him, telling him that her pack, her tribe, often fished for food. She would often help or catch fish for herself, and she had learned such an art from her father. To Rook it was all bittersweet. Back at Renegades Reach, they had all sorts of opportunities to try a variety of prey, but the most abundant of them all were deer (which the pack usually took down as a group) and rabbits (which his father had taught him to skillfully hunt).

He pictured a younger Namid with her father, the two of them scanning the water just like Borden and Rook would do while watching a warren of rabbits. Another glance was cast towards Bishop and he stared at her for a time before bringing his mismatched gaze back to his friend, "My father and I used to hunt rabbits, my mother used to laugh and say we weren't made for the water when we tried to fish. We were never fast enough for catfish." He playfully stuck out his tongue, "Too slippery. I'd always lose them and get a tail to the face."

"Is your home far from here?" he asked, wondering why he had never asked her that before. During their trip he had asked and exchanged various tidbits of information, like why his eyes were mismatched (he had inherited them from his mother), how he and Bishop had found Relic Lore (by following a stag), and why he sometimes stopped for a moment to collect himself (to pray, ask forgiveness, guidance, and repentance to a higher being that he called "The Holy Spirit") among other trivial things. "What was like?"

He watched her think; his tail swayed about in the water, lifting once before falling back in with a small splash. He liked watching her whenever she was sent into a thought-provoking conversation. She was intuitive, insightful, and genuine in a sense that widened his perspective and made him appreciate who she was as an individual, a creature who shared his charisma and easygoing nature. She began to explain to him what her homeland was like and in his mind's eye he saw it all. The vibrant colors of the wildflowers in the fields, the clarity of the skies above, the warmth and brightness of the sun as it shone down on her and her family... He could almost taste the sweetness of the sap on his tongue; he could imagine himself snaking around the trees in attempt to rid his coat of pesky leaves that had attached themselves to his fur. He heard the crisp sound of leaves crunching underfoot as he followed her through the territory, which really was, in his imagination, like running through a never-ending sunset.

The heartbreak in her voice did not go unnoticed, and Rook was quick to offer a bit of solace, "Renegades Reach was like that before I left. I miss my home too." His eyes went down to his paws, watching as they rippled and distorted beneath the water. He thought for a while of what to say, having a feeling that, maybe, she could not go back just as easily as he could. She stepped back on the shore and he looked after her. "Maybe it was meant to be," he murmured. "All this. If I hadn't left and you hadn't come here, we wouldn't be, well... here."

Namid shook out her coat and he followed suit, standing up and wobbling about as to shake the excess water from his belly and neck. She grinned at him then when he next caught her eye. “How about I show you how to fish my way?” she asked. Rook's dark, spiky tail waved about and he nodded, but not without taking yet another glance at his sister in the distance. Perhaps it would be best not to bother her after all; regardless of it all, he figured it was about time that he fully explore having a relationship, a sort of truly intellectual and platonic friendship with someone who wasn't related to him by blood. "Yeah," he smiled back, looking up to the pink- and orange-streaked skies. They had just enough light and time to catch the fish who were just beginning to feed during the twilight hours. "I'd love that."

She gestured at him to follow and it was with a wagging tail that he heartily trailed after her, step for step. When she stepped into a reed-covered area and back into the water, he stopped, opting to watch her first. Artfully she navigated to a spot where the shadows gathered at the marsh-soaked roots of the reeds before beckoning to him with a simple dip of her muzzle. He lowered a forepaw into the shallows again, looked at her feet, then proceeded to bring his other three paws into the water.

Namid instructed him to be very still and immediately his tail stopped wiggling about. In all seriousness, he actually lowered it, the gentle curve of it hinting at his eagerness to learn. In response to her comment about not wanting to scare the fish he shook his head. She laughed then, and he his ears came up with a small twitch of his tail. “Secondly," she continued, "we must be very patient." Rook's head tilted momentarily to one side. Patient. He could do that. Or so he hoped... Usually when he lost his patience, it was because Bishop had been trampling on and fraying his nerves; and, often, in that sort of circumstance, once his ability to tolerate her had been worn thin and broken, there was no way to console or soothe him. This typically led him to seek out a place where he could truly isolated, alone, and left to his own thoughts to cool down and recover.

His muzzle bunched up on one side and he raised a brow in thought. He had gone fishing before. He had told Namid before that he and his father used to try and fish. The difference between then and now, he hoped, was that he would actually catch something. The Star Dancer instructed him further, telling him to look for bubbles or movements just below surface. If and when he was able to locate his prey, he was to aim and bite its back - clasp his jowls around the spine of the fish to avoid getting slapped and losing the prospects of a meal.

"Erf," he sounded in a soft bark, his gaze and attention wholly focused on her and every word that she had relayed to him. Her eyes narrowed and for a time he watched the side of her face before following her gaze to where he saw a splash erupt from the glass-like pool of the marsh. Then, just like that, she was surging forward, sending droplets of water up in the air and on either side of her as she pulled a strange-looking creature from its element. If this truly was her field of expertise, it undoubtedly showed now - especially as she claimed it as her own, rendering it motionless with a few swift movements of her head and paws.

Lord have mercy.

Again the world became still and quiet, aside from the distant sound of gentle splashes and the occasional hubbub of feeding fish. Rook's eyes went to the sightless eyes of the now-dead bass and his jaw visibly clenched. He knew it would be no different compared to when he snatched a rabbit from its burrow or helped his mother, Aniu, and his siblings take down an aging doe. What he wasn't sure about was the fact that this particular form of hunting was not on land, in a pond or running stream. The Marsh was spacious watering hole, and deep, too. He swallowed hard. "All right."

His two eye teeth poked out from beneath his upper lip as his muzzle wrinkled up again as he looked over the still water. As was characteristic of him, he lifted his left forepaw and then the other, wading about as quietly as he could until the water reached his elbows, looking hard for a glint of silver and feeling about for a disturbance in the water.

As he prowled forward, one might have thought Rook possibly looked like a wading stork (that is, if one knew what a stork was and looked like and behaved). When one slender limb came out of the water, one hind leg emerged, and once that hind leg went back underwater, his other forepaw emerged. Only until he was some ways away from where he started from did the sound of splashing water fill the air. An excited bark emitted from his chest and out from behind a dense patch of reeds a small catfish flew into the air. It landed back into the shallows with a moderate splash, but the ruckus had been enough to startle some birds from the nearby tree tops.

As soon as the water droplets had been shaken from his face and out of his eyes he pounced towards the place where his target had landed. He plunged his head down into the water, his tail waving about in the air above his rump as he scrambled through the shallow water. When he came back up for air, he snorted a bit of water from his nose, coughing a number of times before he shook his head to drain his ears. He stood still enough to watch the water in front of him grow still. The catfish was probably long gone by now.

His ears lowered and flattened briefly against his head as he looked over to where Namid rested on the shore. He gave her a sheepish smile, all teeth with a sort of boyish charm that he had not yet outgrown. "Namid?" he called quietly over to her, wordlessly asking for more pointers with a simple tilt of his head. "It... It flew... into the air." He partially grimaced, memories of his parents coming to mind, "Should I... should I move to a different spot?"