Whitebark Stream I make mountains out of stones

"the quakes," she murmurs in response, remembering the haze of fear and hunger and searching. winterbourne, and evergreen—"the prey is starting to return, though I doubt this place will ever be the same as it was." she admits. she does not know if her brother will be either; though in both matters she can only hope. 

"hm," she hums in acknowledgment, glancing him over a final time. "should you decide to settle, these borders are open to you." she offers, motioning lightly to the stream at her back. it would be good, she considers, to have a suitable bachelor among them when as the seasons changed and lengthened.