Two Rivers Isle it's the living who are ghosts.

vague on the timeline. Adylaide can join or not. Up to them. We can thread in the meantime.

Ulrich had taken to patrolling the borders of their isle whenever he got the chance. He perhaps did it too often, but it made him feel safer and more in control when he had something productive to do, and he could not spend all of his time hunting fruitlessly for prey that mostly lived underground and was currently hibernating. So he patrolled. This gave him time to think, although that wasn't always a good thing, as he had a habit of overthinking. When this happened, he merely pumped his legs harder until it was too difficult to think for lack of air.

Today he came to the southern river and began his trek along its banks, occasionally glancing up and out, across to the other side. He never saw anything or anyone when he did this--except today. Now. Right this second. There stood a wolf. A wolf who looked to be on the edge of death, so gaunt was his appearance. The river here was not quite frozen completely, but it was sluggish and barely moved, and so was not too loud for a conversation. Who are you? he demanded. What do you want here? Food was assumption. Ulrich had half a mind to chase him off, if that was the case, and yet... Had he not spoken to Adylaide about allowing others into this little pseudo-pack? Otherwise they would not survive long. Well. He'd just have to see.