Whitefish River i take my whiskey neat

Coming from the opposite direction, Stelmaria walked the same riverline. She had been forced to cross the waters at some point before, to bypass the claimed ridge, but had crossed back again once she had passed it. She was still quite damp when the pale figure of a wolf materialized ahead – fishing by their slender poise.

Stelmaria remained well back, unwilling to disturb the fisher or her very delicate hunt; content to observe coolly for a moment.