Getting old, Kjell decide with a grunt, was something he never wanted to do. The very first hints of age nipped at his joints and his spine, sore after countless days of travel alongside his companion. There was a time as a pup that he thought his own mother ridiculous for complaining of any of these aches, and while he’d never think to actually voice any of his misgivings, the swarthy male could understand that perhaps some of her gripes all those years ago. Of course, his weren’t nearly as bad – how could they be? He was fit, and he was still young, just a bit tired after miles upon miles of travel.
Huffing softly, he threw a glance over his shoulder to see how his partner was fairing. Two years younger, and Bishop had so many few kilometers under her belt. If he could help it, the wyvern would avoid putting such wear on such a pretty thing, though time would tell how far they’d move. The forest itself seemed alright, now that they arrived, and he could smell the tang of fresh water not too far off. Half a length in front of his companion, the timber wolf veered on his course again, silently guiding her towards the lagoon. When they reached its banks, the male leaned down for a drink, sating his thirst before he finally rocked back and addressed the woman traveling alongside him.
“Naw so bad, here,” the wolf decided, scenting the air thoughtfully. “Fresh water. Gotta be somethin’ t’ eat where there’s water. We can find a nice place t’ bed down, and we’ll be all set, yeah? Whaddya think, Bishy?”