Two Rivers Isle My dad would have been so upset

Hunting in this verdant place would take some getting used to.
Goliad knew the tricks of the desert: when best to venture forth from hiding, which nights would be coldest, what signs pointed to water, and the like. It was different here. There was more of everything. He wondered as he moved through a marshy segment of the riverside, picking his steps carefully across the packed mosses, if that was why the winter wolves were so large by comparison.
Hardy and strong, maybe even fat. He was jealous! What strength they possessed! The things he could do if he was more like them - but no, he was a sandstrider; there was culture and honor there too.
His mind wandered.
Across his path came a fat bird the color of snow! It erupted from cover and startled him back - and he rolled, while it chirruped and fled! When the frost settled and Goliad could detangle himself, he saw Ulrich striding along unawares.