Whitefish River And I hope that you'll remember me

Riley had followed close enough, but distance grew between them as they neared the borders. He was nervous; it was one thing that Orlaith was here, but what if he was turned away, or what if he was not good enough? Riley had never requested entrance into a pack before -- Donovan had insistently invited him, and well, he'd been born in Easthollow.

Halting at an invisible line where the scent was thickest, Riley looked at Orlaith helplessly. He might have had a response for this not being a mountain (he had never cared for mountains any more than he cared for desert), if he was not feeling such a strange buzzing sensation of anxiety in the back of his skull.