Water was incredibly crucial to lone wolves during the summer. It was a motivating factor to Vaken, when deciding where he was gonna travel. He stayed desperately close to the wildwood, along lost lake, where he knew there was a steady stream, but hot water? Vaken wanted to ram himself into a tree and let the coyotes have their way. It felt like a cruel joke on him.
How did that even make sense? Why was the water more warm than the air? The yearling back-petalled and whimpered after sticking his nose into the hot fumes. It just didn’t make sense. Was there a mistake in the world? He looked both confused and enraged with the realization that the water here was a scolding temperature. He began panting more, trying to sweat out the heat, and hissed.
“I can’t drink this,” he complained, his voice cracking a little with desperation. He was trying to keep himself relaxed, expressing his anger comically by rolling his eyes and whining. He didn’t have anyone to take it out on, expect the world.