Bits of rabbit blood had dried to their chin and mandible, where their tongue couldn’t reach. The scruffiness of a loner was becoming the norm for them.
A new, unmarked path had appeared on their seemingly endless trek: the scent of water had guided them eastward. Xylo slithered between the trees, making their way through the forest. Birdsong echoed amongst the leaves, making their ears twitch.
After what felt like hours, the cove finally came into view. The sight was enough to make their tail flick upward from their hocks and pick up their pace. As they drew nearer, they saw that the cove was only a nestled appendage of a larger lagoon stretching southward.
Upon reaching the edge of the cove, Xylo dropped their head to the water and began to eagerly quench their thirst.