Whitefish River cupid's demanding back his arrow

It was another week in which the weather seemed to grow colder, it usually posed little concern to the white boy earlier in his life but now he was alone, and lets face it, lost. He'd spent the better part of the nights wandering the wilds, eyes skyward trying to follow the paths he wasn't even sure existed any longer, and yet he followed them.

Today he was stumbling around an unknown riverbank. The ever-cooling water running alongside whilst he managed to make his away along its edge was given little attention, other then the occasional glance when a stray water-droplet reached him. This would be followed by a quick glare at the water, almost daring it to touch him again. No, El was not a water creature, but that did raise the question why was he walking alongside a river anyway?

Another few steps, a cold glare at the water, followed by a twist in the river and he'd almost step into another mass of fur walking in the opposite direction. Formalities, introductions, names, and possibly self-preservations were all lost on the young boy when his first choice was to just talk. "You lookin' for a way across to?" Not that El was actively seeking a way over the river, but hey, where else was he going today.