Whitefish River easy does it

Fox wasn't sure why, but she wandered far away from the creek the day prior. A part of her wondered if she was chasing after a ghost—Haunter—but she also knew that it was no use, even if she found him. He had left, and that was that. There was no bringing him back. He had left on his own accord, and she did not think that she would be able to convince him to return to the creek now that he had left. Of course, all this was assuming she had found him, which she had not. His scent had dissipated, and she had lost it to the rain and the wind.

With a heavy sigh, Fox slumped down on the edge of the river, idly sticking one of her front paws into the water. She had hoped it would help her mood, but it did no such thing. Instead, it only made her angry that he had decided to leave. It was unfair, unkind, and she would not be able to forgive him for it. On one hand, he had come to Swiftcurrent with the idea that he would leave. But on the other hand, he had promised to stay. To keep her safe from whatever dangers were out there. He had failed her, and she knew it.

Growling lowly, she rolled onto her side in an effort to calm herself to some degree.