Whitefish River 'Cause if I could see your face once more, I could die as a happy man I'm sure

she's grown comfortable enough to venture further into the territory, and she recognizes the bearish shape of the man, dimly, from when they first arrived. not enough to put a name to him - the early days here still seem a blur, and her memory is scattered. 

still, he's interesting enough to warrant following, and she does so as inconspicuously as possible. she's gotten especially good at sneaking, and eavesdropping. still, he doesn't be doing much, and saying nothing at all besides. it is only when he drops into the river that she marches towards him, face set into a fierce mask. "whaddya doing?" she asks, stiffly, unsure why anyone would dip into the river. water's nice to look at, but better off avoided, she thinks.