Whitefish River You Look Like A Nice Person

A yawn broke about his jaws as the bear neared his river. After an early morning patrol to ensure the borders were fine, Evergreen’s stomach rumbled with a need for fish. He thought of catching a few extras for the rest of the pack, too, as per usual. Sometimes he wishes he had Thistle along to make sure he hadn’t gone about thinning the population too much.
Dazed and still feeling half-asleep, the bear lumbered along without any rush. Morning song birds chirping, the soft drizzle of rain, overall a comforting day thus far. Not a hair seems out of place. Round ears swerve forth, however, as mismatched green eyes catch the sight of the fireball at the water’s edge. At first he worried that she is much too young to be close to the strength of their river, but it also fascinated him to see a youth curious about it just as he had been in his early childhood (and that fascination still lived and breathed in Evergreen’s core).
Hey there, uhm, kiddo, he approaches—a grin broad on his face and his tail wagging behind him. He moves slowly, as if he might startle her, and as he grows closer he gets lower towards the ground until he crawls and practically flops on the ground next to her. His large paws stretch towards his pride and joy. Pretty cool, huh? Ever see one so big? Maybe if she had it would be a hint to finding her family.