As Saerosaer threaded his way along the still lakeshore, he pondered the darkening sky overhead with hooded eyes of fire. His expression was pensive, as it so often was, yet the exact subject of his rumination was never to be known. It was much too vast for his line of sight to be followed, and any talent for reading the sky was unspoken by him. Even he didn't know what he was looking at. It's warm, he noted, a thought that had nothing much to do with the state of the sky, and he let his gaze drop to the sound of a light splash as a freshwater fish briefly broke the quiet surface.
Across the way there hunched several islands. While he had places to go and things to see, the Arctic male paused to eye them and wondered what might be found upon secluded little isles like that. In the Arctic, it was ice and more ice, and the land was permanently powdered with snow. The ice was damn tough to live on and the only islands to be found were bergs, much too dangerous for any self-preserving wolf to attempt to land on. In comparison, these islands were puny and welcoming.
Yet he was about as poor a swimmer as he was an astrologian, so the long way around was the only way for him. He broke his stillness with a lurch and continued to trace the shore eastward, all the while cursing how much warmer it was here and how he missed the magnificent sight of bergs sailing along. Oh well, he thought. The debt awaiting him back home was worth skipping town to avoid anyway.