Whitefish River From Fiji to Tyree and the Isles of Ebony

He bent to drink, tongue scooping cold, fresh water that felt so refreshing going down his throat only to hit his stomach like a slow punch. Ignoring the slight discomfort, he drank until he rinsed the night’s dryness from his mouth and raised his head, turning just in time to see a swarthy figure approaching.

Atreus’s hackles prickled, though they smoothed when he recognized Void. He blinked at the old nickname, then began to smile. It had been so long since they’d seen one another. He wished Void had seen him while he’d been much fitter—he felt a brief flash of self-consciousness about the extra weight still clinging to his bones—but he quickly brushed away those thoughts and focused on the man in front of him.

Hey, man, it’s been a long time, he greeted, tail swaying as he faced his old friend. How are you doing?