Whitebark Stream this banana bread has walnuts

She wasn't coming back. It had been several days since their scheduled rendezvous. He had wondered then if she meant not to keep her promise to return, but he was hopelessly optimistic and trusting, and had believed she would come. He was wrong, and woke that morning feeling deflated. Again. It was not long ago he had gotten over his last dark cloud and now another threatened to follow. He set his jaw and shook his head. He could not, would not allow it.

He had scarcely thought of Smash before now, and while she had left him with unanswered questions, there was nothing he could do but move forward with his own life. Which meant doing his best to not think of her anymore, though he wished her well and would embrace seeing her again if they happened to cross paths. So, the blue-nosed wolf strolled the edge of a stream bank overgrown with the bright white bark of birch trees.

The sky was clear, and the air growing ever hotter. Soon, his paws sought the cool of the stream, and intermittently he swam and walked the stream itself.