Whitefish River you were born for the stars

After her meeting with Engel, the woman left her meadow behind. Surely it was poor form to attach herself to a place so soon after arriving here; but the siren had been tied to one place for so long that she found herself unable to drift completely freely. It was easier, to have a single, comforting tether than to dive head-first into a world of uncertainty. Her path had been the one she had chosen; perhaps she would be like the eldest and return one day. For now, she was content to leave her birthplace far behind, for even though the world beyond the falls was frightening, sometimes, and lonely, it was exciting and novel. 

Warmth had swept into Teekon; a brief warmth in the midst of winter. Perhaps she had already weathered the worst of it, but the brief thaw would only serve to remind her the distance of summer. Still, she enjoyed it while she could, the storyteller making her way to a creek as she wade into the shallow, frigid waters, sating her thirst as bi-colored gaze flitted from the river to her surroundings.