Whitefish River I'd rather find myself in nature

Emrik joined Connor in his laughter, allowing the other man to take the lead. There was only one path, and it matter not who lead who. At his question, Emrik paused for a moment, realizing Connor hadn’t been part of the pack before he left. Most who knew them before the quakes would assume the new relationship. “Very close.” He agreed at first, a deep hearted smile formed on his lips, “We are mates.” It was an obvious love, there was no need for sweet or sentimental words. It was Speedy and Emrik, Emrik and Speedy, the most obvious of sayings.

As the path continued, the way narrowed. The early spring left wiry branches, with little vegetation, to hang close by. Brushing their sides as they walked. The rocks grew into boulders, and the dirt turned to gravel, and they skirted narrowly against the edge of the river. The rushing water, roaring in their ears, vibrating through the rock. With to much snow melting nearby, the river was bursting with energy. The snow made it difficult to make anything out, except for a dark smudge of to the right, where the path lead straight to.