Whitebark Stream I make mountains out of stones

she senses his awkwardness and smiles easily in an attempt to belie it. if anything, it warms her to him; he seems sincere, and reminds her, perhaps, of friends past. "russian," she echoes, trying out the word. "I like it. is it far, the place of your ancestors?" she asks, wondering just have much distance he'd covered. she wonders if he's seen it, or if it a place found only in old tales and imagination. 

she only smiles easily at his gratitude; she is grateful, too, that he has given her and the stream a chance. it would have been just as easy to find a place more established, a day or two's journey away. but now that he's here, for however long it may be, she finds herself eager to learn more of her newest packmate.

we could fade soon, or continue—up to you! <3