Whitewater Gorge Fire and Water

It had taken a lot of thought, but she'd eventually decided that while she was Moorhen on the shores, she was still Sif while further inland. Besides, there was something about a name with a single syllable that appealed to her. Probably the fact that, no matter how hard she tried, she could not pronounce Moorhen smoothly in her clipped accent, even if she had become far more eloquent in the native tongue of these lands.

Regardless, as she wandered along the edges of the forest, forging further and further from the coast, her thoughts were much simpler. Having seen much calamity in her relatively short life, the quakes and the flooding did not alarm her quite as much as they would have in earlier years. Rather, she was most concerned with getting her next meal, but not actually all that concerned at all.

Unconcerned enough that her hunting halted for a moment while she examined the scent markers at the edge of the wood. Her tail flicked in a friendly way as she lifted her head to look up and into the dense trees. It looked to her like a friendly sort of place, even if it was a lonely one. She continued on, not quite hunting anymore as she swept along the edge of the gorge, travelling still in a southerly direction. The mist folded back step by step, so that by the time she was able to see Mal, she was actually quite close to him.

Sif stopped short, apparently rather stunned by his sudden appearance.

"Hello," she ventured, her tail quivering uncertainly as she prepared to be either very friendly, or very fast.