Bitterroot Valley it's brave and unbreakable

the mid-morning sun struggles to shine through the choking constriction of thick white clouds. the bitterroot beneath ridgeback's trampling paws bears vivid fuchsia carpeting. it is nothing but yawning grassland with a slumbering mountain in the distance. still, he keeps going. there is nothing of notable interest in this valley for him. not until dry soil gives way to loamy earth and the gentle lapping waters of the qeya river. the water is fresh as he pauses to take a drink and eye the permanent and deep ruts of fresh game trails. he keeps it in mind, in case he gets lucky and a sickly elder is left behind by the herd but does not pursue any of the trails.