March 15; Hours before sunrise; Overcast; 20 ° F, -6 ° C.
For the past four days he had basically been stuck to Hecate's side; he had enjoyed the first 36 hours, filling the afternoons with lazy naps and enjoying the night by finding all the places to hide beyond Willow Ridge and taking advantage of the dark. Being larger, darker, it was easy for him to swallow her up in the shadows and steal her away. Whether or not he was successful in his feat to produce another child to uphold the Archer bloodline, he had yet to find out. Waiting, however, was making him anxious and while @Hecate soundly slept, he decided to take a walk.
He didn't go too far, trailing along the creek and keeping the babbling waters always to his right side as he wandered. Eventually, he stopped, standing between the willows and the woodlands of Sacred Grove. At this rate, it would take him a while, perhaps half an hour if he took his time, to get back to his enamored mate, who would no doubt be missing him if she awoke to find him gone.
The crows above twittered and scolded one another as they nestled in the trees to his right. A storm was coming. Skoll's mouth curved up in a lop-sided grin; a bit of rain would help when it came to relieving himself of Hecate's scent. At present, it was still making his skin crawl and his stomach tie itself into knots. Without thought, he stepped into the small stream, sticking to the water up to his elbows at first before laying down and dunking his head below the surface.
When he rose to get out of the icy shallows, he coughed and took a deep inhale, but he wouldn't shake his coat out just yet. He wanted all the savor gone from his fur, save for his own musk. It was a good thing this phenomenon only happened once a year; if it occurred every month, he wasn't sure if he could manage. One more dip in the creek and he strode out, turning the still-frozen ground beneath him into a mixture of snow and mud. He shook out his coat at last, sending a few of the black birds into the sky from the unusual hushed sound. As he sat on a patch of snow, he set his teeth to his paws, itching a spot just above his right wrist and only vaguely aware of anything else around him.