In one of his usual trips to the crags, Sleekwing had decided to make the ascension to very top of the crags. It was a challenge, one met not necessarily with ease, but that he conquered none the less. When he breached the top of the rocky terrain, he looked back down the steep, unsteady hill he’d just climbed. The lean muscles of his legs screamed in protest, nearly trembling at the exertion. But he had done it, and he turned away from his conquest and walked towards the Ruieze Lake, keen to quench the thirst that he been drummed up by the effort of the climb.

He moved up the small tributary that fed the falls and pools of the crags, moving northeast towards the main body of the lake. The shadow of an oak fell over him as he reached the edge of the body of water, and his steps reverberated with the crunch of fallen autumn leaves on the ground. The noise did not bother him, for he felt no need to conceal his presence. Upon reaching the lake, he lowered his muzzle and lapped eagerly at the cool water.

Eyes of dark blue with a ring of lavender at their center gazed up over the water at the sound of another splashing into the water. His tongue retracted into his mouth with one last lap of water, and his ears tipped forward with interest. Lifting his dial, he glanced over at her slender obsidian form. She must have been eager for the drink, for she had plunged herself into the water to get to it. His dial cocks to the side curiously, wondering what had given her such thirst. They are not far apart, she a mere ten feet down the shore from him, though she clearly had missed his presence in her haste to get to the lake. “Hello there,” he said, not wanting to intrude on her, but also not wanting her to think he was being strange by silently watching her drink.