Whitefish River do we get what we deserve

The further they trailed from the coast, the more refreshed Nyx began to feel. Rise of evergreen forest and mountain alike were a welcome sight, a comfort following a bitter two seasons on the sands that Grimnismal had once claimed. Both Ingram and Lycaon had rooted her there, grounded her with their wit and charm despite her drive to wander. She tried not to dwell on them, but when silence fell between the Ostrega siblings, Nyx could not stop her mind trailing to thoughts of her previous companions. Where had Ingram gone? Was Lycaon surviving, raising their sole pup in her absence? Would they despise her?

Dirge spoke, alerting her to mud on her face, and she shook her head in attempt to escape the torment of her memory. A raven-tipped lobe swivelled forward and she responded with a disinterested huff, before she lifted her dull gaze to look upon her brother's features. He smiled for her then, rousing new guilt for her sourness toward him, and she offered a thin one of her own - though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm good here," she answered simply, lowering her hindquarters to the ground to confirm.