Whitefish River pair of dice

She turned two, that sunny day.

Not that she knew. She didn't remember the earliest days, curled by a switch of sides. Her youth a blur of loss. Something she tried not to think about too long.

Although, brains were good at failing to not think.

She thought of Kigipigak as she trailed the river. Unsure what to think as days ticked by. She still held hope for a return or that she might catch sight of him in the familiar places she roamed. Never once did she, though.

Granted the figure who loped riverside was familiar. Loosely and vaguely. Sakhmet recalled her from the unusual encounter of Blackfeather. It made her tense some to think of the place, of the man who followed.

Only this one had not seemed like him.

She hoped.

Hey!

Warm, but mostly neutral — in tone and posture.