Whitefish River between two points

Somewhere in the mix of his travels had he come across the river splitting his path. Mordecai paced a broad, shallow part of the waters quietly, testing the still cool waters with his once dirty feet. The water itself was a bit of a relief, if only to relax in, but he still kept his guard up. There was little denying that this place was well inhabited, from the sights, smells, and obvious tracks that litters one range to another. This particular resurgence of bodies didn't bother him much, though he had yet to entirely figure out what they were all about. Spring sun rays bathed him in warmth where the canopy cover gave way, and his slow pace gave him plenty of time to draw in the nooks and crannies of the sights.

While he tried to tell himself that not everywhere was like his youth, the traces of that still clung to him. He carried himself well, going against the weariness that had once again started to plague him in the lull of full on travel. Once again that nonchalant way had come about him, and he paced almost as though he had nary a care in the world. But his eyes couldn't help but betray that and speak the truth; he was watching, waiting. For what, he once again couldn't have known. Exploring was a double-sided coin, one his father had warned him about again and again. A coin that Mordecai knew well, at least now.