Otter Creek oh, how can this be? i’ve finally found peace

to not look at her would be, wintersbane feels, denying her a common courtesy; but there is a part of him that feels a stab of guilt that he instantly wants to strangle within himself when he notes that she's pretty. very pretty. well-muscled, stark white fur with a defining black stripe down her spine and fading at her ribcage. a distinctive scent of seabrine; salt and seaweed. bright blue gaze that reminds him, startlingly, of the glacial peaks of enok tundra. in a bizarre flip of feelings running thru him, homesickness for his mother's homeland rises within him like the swell of the tide.

this, too, he beats down. he has sagtannet now ...which is close enough to enok tundra to make him feel as if lotte would approve.

❝i didn't mean to startle you,❞ he offers a bit sheepishly. in fact, startling her was what he had hoped to ultimately avoid. ❝i was tracking herd movements, actually,❞ he admits with a slight gesture of his muzzle in the direction he'd been heading. fishing wasn't one of his strong suits ( or so he thinks ) and as far as freshwater there was plenty of it upon his spire.