Totoka River Hold my hand, it's a long way down

sleepy post~ i apologize if this post doesn't make any sense, lmao.

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Thyri’s path takes her west (and a little bit south) of Frostfire Ridge, unwilling to linger in the Taiga for longer than is absolutely necessary. There are too many unresolved feelings and the uncertainty of if she’ll ever get to make amends for them or not leave her eager to bury them and pretend they do not exist. Thyri tries to let it go and with more distance between herself and the ruined Sleeping Dragon the easier it becomes. A few hours after stumbles upon and lingers at the cusp of Ravensblood Forest she rouses awake, disoriented for a few seconds before awareness sets in. She has not slept much in the past few days in her eagerness to keep traveling, to keep putting that distance away from things she is trying to hard to bury. Plus, she hopes to avoid running into any unwanted interest; lest she stumble across another who is as coquet as the male that called her toots — even thinking the (still) foreign word sets her on edge and has her gnashing her teeth in seething annoyance. For her own sake, Thyri sincerely hopes another meeting like that is not in her future. She rises to her paws after a languid stretch, giving pelage of champagne and cremé a hearty shake to dispel any possible debris that may have accumulated during the few hours she’d been catching up on her sleep. Sleep is not something Thyri willingly indulges in where she can easily be found. That requires a level of trust that she believes she will never harbor for another.

She steps from her place of concealment and rest before she ventures towards with her back to the heart of Ravensblood heading north to the Totoko River trying to remember if she has visited it before. She cannot draw anything familiar about it besides that it rather looks like any other river she’s ever came across in her travels. Movement catches her eye and light caramel colored gaze snaps keenly to the stranger. His scent tells Thyri only that: that he is a he and the salty tang that clings to his pelage only speaks of where he has very recently been. The sylph’s pace slows and she hesitates for a fraction of a moment as she debates her options. She thinks she may be able to alter her course and continue on unnoticed but she wishes to sate her thirst and his path intercepts with her path to the upcoming banks of the river. Her thirst wins the debate and she lets out a low chuff to simply announce her presence as to avoid surprise and an unwanted quarrel.

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