Whitewater Gorge Geronimo

The sound of a whimper caused Wildfire to glance over her shoulder, an eyebrow playfully arched, but she quickly faced forward again to avoid tumbling to her death. Slowly and carefully, she led the way deeper into the canyon, the air darkening around them into a sort of false twilight. At long last, they reached a rocky ledge perhaps a foot clear of the river's surface, overlooking a small, frozen eddy. If she wanted to get a drink here, she would have to bend over quite a ways.

She peered at Anywl, wondering if would mind holding onto her tail. The thought caused her to grin lopsidedly at him. Before she could possibly voice her question, he posed one of his own. He seemed quite hung up on her being here, which amused her. They didn't know one another at all, yet he was very clearly concerned about her well-being. He was a bit of a white knight, wasn't he?

"I'm a scout by trade," she informed him, "but, no, I'm not on any particular mission. I'm just exploring. I like checking out new places, getting a feel for the lay of the land." Wildfire blinked at him, expression saying, Make sense? "What about you? Why are you out here? Hey, mind holding onto my tail?" she pinned on there at the end, dropping her anterior to crouch over the edge of the shelf.