Whitebark Stream Saluted father dear

Coincidentally, Rickon was trying to figure out the flat-tailed creatures too. The southern gorge he'd crawled out of hadn't featured much aquatic life, and there especially hadn't been any giant, swimming rodents. At least, that's what he thought they were. From the shore he watched them, curiously speculating but lacking the motivation to seek any answers about them. He might've napped there if a scent didn't cross him on the breeze just then, pulling him from his sphinx position and further upstream.

He spied another nest of giant water rats beavers in the riverbend before he noticed the splotchy wolf watching them. Perking up, he trotted near enough to catch her eye, but kept his distance out of cautious habit. "Hey," he tried, racking his brain from something that wouldn't send her scuttling away or towards him in a rage. "You know if those paddling rats are any good to eat?" A safe, reasonable topic. He was surprised at himself.