Otter Creek the river confused

Eriol had never seen a beaver before. Ever. Where he had come from, the short time he'd been there, no such thing had existed...to his knowledge. He'd been alive for a whole year, as of recent, and the word had never been spoken to him once. Except by Mahler. So at least once, now, but still. The point was that he had no idea what a beaver was and he had not asked before taking off and seeing to his task. Which he could not complete. Because he had not asked...what a beaver was.

As it turned out, Eriol was not actually far from the typical habitat of such things as beavers. As he followed the river, admiring the alder trees, he might have stumbled upon one. He would not have known that, of course, and to simply find a beaver wasn't his task. Still, his intuition was strong despite his ignorance - the creek glittered beautiful in the cold sunlight. It would have been a great place to find a beaver.

He made great time, following the wind of the stream. He had no real destination in mind and though his mind flitted quickly from subject to subject, problem to problem, he was not bogged down with anxiety on this fine day. He was happy as he trotted along, the breeze sweet and the day ahead of him.

Vallkyrie had exerted extreme caution as she exited the Tormented Tarns and made way to the mountain slopes. From the wolf which had first greeted her to the Teekon Wilds, the land ahead was dangerous with some unkindly wolves who did not fair any loners around. Vallkyrie took the precaution as she should, though completely understood the reasoning behind the hostility of Pack towards loners. Especially now with winter close and, unknowingly to her, a destruction of the land which had caused uprooted pack life all together. 

When Kyr reached the Spire she had clung close to the edges of the cliffs and, after having exhausted so much of her energy trudging through the mucky waters of the swamp behind her, found a place to rest for the night. Though she had found a little nook in a rock face she had suffered the night sore, cold and hungry. The next morning she woke to begin her travels again in hope of finding land much more plentiful. 

To the west, a large expanse of meadow lay out before her. A happy sigh moved past blackened lips. After nothing but swamp and sheer mountain for so long, she was happy to find green, dry land. With an excitement inspired burst of adrenaline,  Vallkyrie surged forth (and perhaps foolishly so) through the open land of the Fairspell Meadow. She was content in her run, the winds pushing past her, her nose going wild. The scent of water was near and it pushed her forth further, slowly cautiously as she neared the sounds of the creek. She was close. Perhaps, if she was lucky, prey would follow. 

With a growling stomach, the loner moved through the tall reeds and towards the chilly waters of the embankment. With another deep sniff, she knew she wasnt alone. There was another wolf wondering somewhere here too.