The cool water of the oasis felt amazing to Ridley's thick pelt and burnt body parts. He continued to slither his way through the blue water, his tail propelling him, and multiple times his reptile appendage breached the surface. The rest of his body, however, remained beneath. Below the water his silver eyes searched for any sort of easy meals. There were plenty of fish, but he wasn't the largest fan of dealing with scales and tiny bones that liked to poke your gums. When his nose came up to catch a breath of air, he saw some birds squawking near the shore. They seemed to be chattering about something and looking downwards. Was something dead nearby?
Ever the curious creature (and not above eating a rotten meal to fill his belly), Ridley dipped his nose back beneath the blue waters and continued to slither lazily towards his destination. He stalked closer and lifted the top of his head to the surface of the water, taking another breath of air as his silver eyes searched for the cause of commotion between the avians. At first, his eyes missed the wolf laying out near the shore. It was the second sweep he did, carefully and slowly inspecting every shadow and wave of the palm tree fronds above, that he picked up on an unnatural movement. Before approaching and revealing himself to the creature, he studied for a while longer, the top of his head poked from the surface of the oasis like an alligator or hippo would do. The creature remained in it's spot and continued it's odd movement. He couldn't quite peace it together from this distance exactly what it was, or what it was doing. His muzzle tipped upwards slightly further, and his forked tongue tasted the air.
Wolf he recognized hungrily.
He dipped back down to swim beneath the water the remainder of the distance, several lengths, then stepped out onto the shore dripping wet and, appropriately, stinking of wet dog. At first, he stared at her curiously, his head tilting back and forth as he wondered why she was twitching and kicking her legs in such a way. Was it a dream, or was it a nightmare that drove those movements? They weren't the spasms of death, for he could smell nor see any wounds across the wolf's body. His tongue flicked again, and he did not taste the familiar scent of rot in the area, either.
The birds above squawked louder at his presence, alerted by how he had risen from the pool in the oasis. His silver eyes turned upwards to look up at them. Again his head tilted to the side. Flick. Ah, birds were always so noisy and not worth his time. He turned his gaze downwards once more, staring at the wolf who seemed to be oblivious to his presence, stuck in some unconscious presence of it's own as it rolled from one side over to the other. He stepped forward, hovering over the wolf. His muzzle came close to her face. Flick went his tongue beside her ear.