Whitebark Stream an' it harm none

from her position on a small ridge, the huntress watches daylily enter her field of vision, the girl roaming the banks of the river. her path is wandering, aimless, and she seems to dawn to be lost in her own thoughts. she watches the girl's path a moment longer before rising, descending the ridge at an easy lope. she calls out, a low sound halfway between a chuff and a bark, as she closes the distance between them; luckily, they are both on the same side of the river. it's too wide to cross here, and shouted conversations across the river are hardly pleasant.