Whitewater Gorge only one remained to haunt me.

A flurry of fur and teeth is what he expects, and yet, a jerky gesture is all the injured woman gives him. Held in place, she bares herself to him. Evergreen remains slow in his approach, yet grows less hesitant with each steady step towards her. His posture low—although not crouched—to keep from towering over. Domineering is something the bear has never been.

He reaches her side, his good eye roams concerned over her every injury, mostly that of her head. And while questions linger on the tip of his tongue, the bear reaches forward, placing gentle kisses upon the injury to clean it—hopeful that it would not grow infected. Perhaps he ought to call for Sindri, for his medical knowledge is limited. He only knows the basic patch job, and what she has murmured to him.

For now, he focuses on gaining her trust.