Whitefish River i only wake up from a nightmare after i die

It seemed that none of the wolves in this area were keen on the ceremonious behavior of her homeland. Even though the populace here seemed familiar with the titles she used, this was the second time that such formality had been rendered unnecessary by her company. Magnus was slightly uncouth, but certainly just as deserving of being called mister as any other male she came across—unless there was something about his psyche that suggested he didn't identify with his given anatomy. This was unlikely.

Through her pointed chattiness, Diane noticed that she had touched something sensitive for the red and pepper wolf. Briefly, her ears pulled back, but the reassuring smile Magnus provided thereafter eased the wrinkles of worry that had formed across her face. The tip of her stunted tail wiggled slightly. "I find that hard to believe. You're much too charming not to have any friends," she said, offering him the tiniest of smiles. It was all she could muster as the trauma of her own recent past was taking its sweet time to ebb from her brain.

Instead, she recalled the place he had described earlier. "It sounds like you were at a hot spring. I think they'd be the greatest thing if the smell wasn't so strong..." She idly wondered where he had encountered the thermal spring, but didn't ask. Still wary of water bodies, she was not encouraged to seek out even the warmest of sources. Diane gave her body a shake, eradicating the sudden tiredness that had taken her limbs. She forgot she had been running all night.

"Do you live nearby?" she asked, thinking of the Ridge.