Heron Lake Plateau john barleycorn must die

there had been a pack to the east, but its borderlands held traces of the scent of that woman who'd questioned them by the stream. aditya would rather avoid more of that, so he headed this direction instead, all the while traveling north. clear skies a night or two had allowed them to read the stars and point themselves the right way.

finally, he thought, they were on the right track.

the large lake was magnificent even in winter, a vast sheet of ice glistening before them. it must be even more beautiful in the warmer seasons, a watering hole for all. aditya stood upon a hillock overlooking it, gazing over the frozen water.

he turned to @Brook, grinning. it's funny. . .the sea never freezes. it's always moving, he remarked. just like him—he thought he might turn to stone if his paws ever ceased. maybe that was why the waves kept calling him back. do you remember where you were born—swiftcurrent creek? it hardly ever froze; it moved too quickly.