Water shifted through Anga’s mane, causing it to fan out along his head. The heat from his core slowly receded to a nice, comfortable temperature. Rays from the sun weren’t causing him to sweat now. Even if it did, at least the water washed it away. Well, not that it bothered him. He couldn’t stand the heat. Sweat was alright until it made him smell. He didn’t need to die smelling like death before he crossed over. The gods needed to give him at least that small request.
His tail lazily swayed back and forth, creating little twirls in the tide. Currently, Anga floated on his back, his favorite position while swimming. Stupid Huritt, who Anga was ignoring, lead him to this lovely stream. He kicked his back leg, pushing himself into deeper waters. This stream wasn’t as small as Anga expected. Though, nothing could compare to the lake back home.
