Whitefish River a giggle at a funeral

In keeping busy avoiding most everyone that wasn't Spica, she found herself back alongside the river today--picking along at a slow walk, not really with any particular purpose behind the motion yet. As long as it kept her out of sight of her mother's densite, or Emrik with any belated attempts at peace-offerings, she supposed it would have to do. Maybe she could find a trail on something good, but really, she wasn't too committed to the idea. Her twin was probably not far, so if all else failed, she could rejoin her side and keep herself occupied that way.

Along her route that meandered with the waterway, she saw just ahead as the dark wolf turned away from the banks and went on his way on to elsewhere. Since the figure didn't fit the immediate description of anyone on her list to dodge, or even anyone she knew, she decided to nose her way along and see what was up--perhaps most importantly, who they were, or whatever else. As detached from the pack (with their pups this and pups that) as her family's internal drama made her feel, she supposed it couldn't hurt, and set off on his trail up the hill with a soft, slow jog.

If it turned out he outpaced her too much, she would just be on her way to elsewhere then--no skin off her back.