[Oberon]

He doesn't... He doesn't remember much. 

Muddle mind spins as the pale fox staggers on unsteady feet, the feel of cold water splashing against his legs and belly with every dizzying step. There had been -- there had been a wolf. Angry or hungry, Oberon doesn't quite remember the creature's face, only the its snapping jaws and the chase that had sent him tumbling down--

"Ah..." He had fallen down a cliff's edge. There is a comfort in remembering what had happened, despite the dull throbbing of his head as blood oozed and framed his pale face with scarlet. 

There is a dense covering of trees and foliage across the lazy river, and the injured fox reasons that it's a good spot to rest. 

Through the haze, Oberon doesn't pick up the scent of others, the telltale mark of a pack land. He's tired, and his head swims with dark spots. Sleep is the only thing on wanderer's mind now. 

He makes it just to the riverbank before sinking slowly into the cool water -- pale green fighting to stay open. Perhaps he'll just rest here for a while.