Otter Creek Rivers flow only one way

It suddenly occurred to her that they were getting close to the spire, although that didn't explain the pack scent; it was not only unfamiliar but coming from another direction entirely (west rather than east). A puzzled look drifted across Wildfire's face before it smoothed, visage now expressionless as she listened to Jolon speak. He mentioned living with others in the mountains but said he wasn't part of an established pack. Wildfire licked her lips thoughtfully, glancing at the ridges above them, then back to the stranger. She was reminded of why she usually didn't bother too much trying to keep track of these things; packs seemed to come and go even swifter than the seasons.

Her lips twitched when Jolon referred to Charon as a "frosty stranger," wondering if it referred to his appearance, personality or both. The Alpha took the opportunity to introduce himself and answer some of their new acquaintance's questions. He covered everything rather succinctly, leaving little for Wildfire to add. She did wonder why Jolon seemed taken aback about their scouting endeavors away from home. Was he not doing the very same thing? And he was alone.

Of course, they had no ill intent, so there was nothing to fear. Charon raised some questions of his own and Wildfire remained silent, ears perked for Jolon's response, even as she exchanged a glance with her leader and began roaming nearer to the water's edge. She was thirsty and wanted a drink. As her petite red paws pressed into the moist clay at the bank, she observed tiny impressions that looked like paw prints, the digits slenderer and more like fingers than toes, a strange line connecting each of them.