Arrow Lake Jol

River could hear the heartsickness in his voice, the missing of something irreplaceable and familiar to his soul. His home did sound very different to these lands. Winter whites and greys replacing summer reds and browns; sunbaked winds substituted for an omnipresent chill; crystal blue waters exchanged for dark, murky depths. To him, these mountains must have seemed like faraway lands, nearly the opposite of his personal paradise.

It sounds beautiful. She wondered if being here instead was somewhat of a hell for him.

Usually one to speak her mind, she dared not ask him in that moment, for a selfish fear that the truth might harm her. She could not even bring herself to express the sorrow she felt that he had been torn from it. I’ll introduce you to the mountains proper, whenever you want. Maybe you will find beauty here, too, she offered, even knowing that he had a place already.

River seemed to know the best places to hunt here. The two wolves crested a rocky, snow-covered hill, side by side, then descended towards a trail of upturned snow that had been disturbed less than an hour ago. What did you like to eat back at the red stones? she asked as they investigated the path. A herd of hoofprints extended in a misshapen line before them.