Swiftcurrent Creek pont neuf

Maybe someone from Ryujin?

He had left the meadow with high spirits, though they dulled as time wore on and the situation settled in his mind. Renoir would need a meal soon, and he hoped to find something warm and inviting like the last - the rabbit meat from the pale rose only lasted so long within his belly. He felt the stirrings of hunger as he passed by the mountains, but did not give them a second glance; they were not a beast he was willing to combat today. The lowlands held hillocks that winded him easily enough, and anything greater would only use up his meager energy. Perhaps he could hunt something? But the boy could not remember the last time he had done such a thing; he was by no means a prince, but he had been doted upon just as much as Monet. Out here in the wilderness, there was no one to care for him -- and rightly so, he surmised. He was becoming a man in this empty land, and needed his maman no longer.

Memories continued to pepper his thoughts regardless. As he picked his way along a riverside, he thought of when Monet had her first swimming lessons - and how frightened she had been! Fearful of the water, of the damp rocks, of the very air! Oh, how she trembled. Her cries were fresh in his ears, remembering when he had dove face-first in to the lake as a child. Monet had been terrified - she thought him dead! Melted! A wry smile creases his face as he remembers this, and then Renoir sighs. He has found a shallow spot to cross the river -- and he does so, mindful of his steps, and once on the other side he gives the water no lingering thoughts.