Qeya River outstretched arm, and upturned hand

to hel with them all. YEAH! imrathil thought -- had he an arm or thumbs he might have taken a rock and hurled it with all his contempt at the river's coursing, unaffected face. take that, fucking river.

at least he made wardruna chuckle; imrathil, bless his shitty memory, would treasure that forever.

he looked up the bank and then back down it. rocks, water, whistling reeds. not much in the way of food. a hankering for something suddenly possessed him - the form in his mind formless and shapeless as mist, apparent one moment and gone the next -- but the taste lingered in his mouth and he frowned. what was that form?

he didn't mention it to wardruna - such constant rehashing of his gappy memory often made imrathil frustrated in a way that sometimes, he unfairly lashed out at his guardian. such vexing behavior was not unusual for a creature with a traumatic brain injury, but imrathil was (praise talos) no doctor; all he knew was the guilt that ate at him after he unfairly snapped at wardruna.

pushing down the troubling thought of that formless shape, imrathil limped along the bank. "hm. not much here. i mean, i'd take a moose but i don't think we'd find one of those here." nevermind the fact they obviously were in no position to fell leviathans; moose, jotunn, or otherwise.

"whatever we catch sounds good to me. wonder if there are any fish upstream?" he peered at the bend in the river, its long dark form snaking round a natural rise of stone that obscured the rest of the river's path.