Whitefish River she fears I'll be a servant to my history

the girl announces her intent, and clementine shakes her head in soft no. "I don't know. I haven't seen any in, um, months." tongue darts out over her lips, rather disappointed with herself. she'd never long considered where they'd gone, in truth, only that they'd gone away. away was an abstract place she'd never truly questioned. 

eager to provide some sort of information, and rather proud of the little flowers, she takes a step back, motioning down. "I, um, found these. They're very nice." she offers, realizing rather quickly that it sounds entirely shallow. "it could be a good sign. things are growing—maybe, um, the deer'll come back and eat them." she offers, rambling somewhat in an attempt to be useful.