Whitewater Gorge Geronimo

Moonspear, that sounds cool. Anwyl thought, while continuing forwards. He would've liked a more detailed answer, but a brief answer could've only been expected. They had only just met anyways. She returned his question onto him, and he was more than willing to respond. I'm from this new pack, called Porcupine Ridge. It's that way, He jerked his head in the direction he'd first come from, not sure which way was east or west. I like it a lot, my pack mates are really nice, and fun. But I do miss home.

He was tempted to tell her his whole life story, but wasn't sure if she's really care. Most people didn't, it was something that this Chatty Cathy had learned to deal with. He only bring up more if she asked. They came to the fork in the path where the river narrowed. Anwyl worked up his bravery, and then made the leap. For a moment he felt like a bird, soaring through the air. It lasted about two seconds and then he landed in a not so graceful tumble. He shook his head and then turned back to Wildfire with a grin. Come on then, it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it'd be. He added reassuringly, though he knew she didn't need reassurance.