I’m not sure what brought me to the Fields today - just my general need to explore, I suppose – but as I follow the bank of the lake, my attention is drawn by someone crashing through the grass and in to the murky water. It stops me. I’ve never seen anyone do this, and I’m intrigued. I tilt my head and make myself scarce, dodging into the summer grasses that wave beyond the shoreline. My green eyes narrow in concentration as I watch her bob through the water, cutting a line across the lake’s surface.

I’ve had a number of experiences with water: the creek in Diveen; the shallow swamp mud around Iromar that sucks at my toes; and I still remember the first time I discovered that water isn’t solid. I can’t grab it, I can’t do anything with it except to walk through it and wait for my fur to dry. Being wet doesn’t bother me – and I have no problem drinking the stuff. But it has never occurred to me to let my feet leave the ground. Above all things I want to feel secure, in control, and somehow thrusting myself into a thing I cannot truly touch is deeply unsettling. I wonder what Castor would make of what I’m seeing.

I’m deeply focused on the swimmer, so much so that a third and fourth wolf appear before I ever notice the growing crowd. My eyes widen as they interact; this is a prime opportunity for me to observe, retain. But I want no part of the actual…mingling. Even as I tuck myself closer to the ground, more wolves add themselves to the gathering. Some make their way into the water, imitating the first wolf and submerging themselves, others take their leisure along the sandy shore and in the grass beyond.

Not far from me, someone else hides, and waits, as quietly as myself. I don’t know what to make of him, but I’m suddenly fixated on this monster of a wolf. I’ve never seen a wolf his size, and he’s standing so still. It’s unnerving. Even as the company beyond us swells, I am staring at him, as if to absorb what he knows. Something in me suggests that I keep quiet. After all, we’re both in hiding. Everything else fades out and I am single-minded in my attention. How does one grow to be so large, and yet so stealthy? And to what end? He practically quivers, just a few yards away, as he watches the others socialize, and I am practically quivering as I watch him.

I don’t know his name yet, but I will remember Artimus.