Whitefish River Little White Fish

"Seems to be a common pattern wherever one finds zemselves," the mother lilted matter-of-factly, lips quirking wearily without a hint of malice or bitterness. 

It was just the way of things, the natural order of their harsh world. People vanished. Families broke. Packs disbanded. Nothing lasted; but maybe moments like these, those of contentment, of peace, made hope worth holding.  

It was odd. 

Even as he was silently mulling over the serendipitous calm enveloping their cautious interaction, the northron too had come to the realization that her own tension had fled. Like the long-awaited melts of spring upon the winterlands it had trickled from her taut limbs, absorbed by the cold earth beneath her chafed paws. 

"Ya know," she drawled softly, head ducking once as she bit down on an amused grin, "I don't believe I ever caught your name..?"