Whitefish River I Used to Think That I Was Made out of Stone

Her search wouldn't last long, Hieronymous was rather predictable, though that was mostly due to his schedule. The roan woman picked up a short trot, a call on her lips that came out in a plume of breath, Hieronymous. She hadn't had the chance to really sit down and talk with the man since her return, or well...walk and talk in this case. I was hoping I would find you here. Knowing by now that he wouldn't mind her presence, Ira fell in line at the painted man's side. There was a lot to discuss now, especially given what she had seen at Moonspear and the bear that wandered to the South was still left on their to-do list.