Bitterroot Valley Today never happened before.

Winter had been only a few months old when the floods came. A short time later, his brother @Frost had vanished.

The family had never recovered from the loss of their littlest member, hunting far and wide for many weeks, but they moved on because they had to. His parents had three other living cubs to carry on raising. They leaned on each other and carried on leading their pack, seeing them through the cold season despite the weight of their grief. 

Winter found himself quietly wondering of Frost's fate as he trailed through the valley with @Arcadian at his flank.

We are close, Брат, he announced cheerfully, smiling over a peppered shoulder at his gilded sibling; he was excited to see how Whitebark recovered from the floods, and to show the lands to Redwood. I can feel it in my bones!

He wasn't a kid anymore, but at various times through this trip, he'd started to feel like it. Everything was just so new; he hadn't realized how much of the world he'd been missing out on by sticking close to home. Not just the physical sights, but the inner sensation of being without their parents. He wondered if he would feel their presence, though, when they reached their old stomping ground. It was a place Redwood had only ever heard of, and instead of loss or nostalgia, he could only think of the place with curiosity and wonder.

"We should hunt when we get closer," he suggested, his tone conspiring. "Perhaps we will be eating the great-great-great grandchildren of the suppers you had there."

But, glib suggestions aside, he did feel some trepidation. Things had happened in this place. He worried it might stir up strange memories for his brother, and he was on his guard, on the watch for signs that this may come to pass.

A hunt, his brother suggested. Ah, what a grand idea! What better way to celebrate his return to the place of his birth? Winter's tail swung to life, thumping merrily against Redwood's ribcage. He gave a bark of laughter at the suggestion. Perhaps! Let's hope those descendants haven't been dreaming of revenge, he called out, quickening his stride to a brisk lope.

Being back here, in these lands - it was as though the youth returned to him. Before the flood, before Frost's disappearance, he'd experienced a happy childhood. Whitebark had provided a good home to grow up in - there was no resentment for the way in which they'd been forced to abandon it.

He did not question Nature, nor the way of water.

There was no rain to bring about the fear of rivers breaking banks that afternoon, however. Spring sunshine smiled down on the pair, welcoming them.

Arkadiy laughed heartily at this, though the unnatural image of being hunted by deer sat uneasily with him. It would continue to intrude on him for some time even after they left the area.

"Tell me a story," he requested, feeling childish as he did so but not truly caring. He always wanted stories — from their parents, from strangers, from his elder siblings. Stories that had actually happened were his favorite, but as long as it was believable, he was happy enough. Rarely, he met individuals who could spin fantastical tales into something believable — and each time, he fell madly in love.

Today, he was only hoping to be entertained until the real tour began. Sight-seeing through his brother's memories was nearly as good.