Bitterroot Valley Today never happened before.

A hunt, his brother suggested. Ah, what a grand idea! What better way to celebrate his return to the place of his birth? Winter's tail swung to life, thumping merrily against Redwood's ribcage. He gave a bark of laughter at the suggestion. Perhaps! Let's hope those descendants haven't been dreaming of revenge, he called out, quickening his stride to a brisk lope.

Being back here, in these lands - it was as though the youth returned to him. Before the flood, before Frost's disappearance, he'd experienced a happy childhood. Whitebark had provided a good home to grow up in - there was no resentment for the way in which they'd been forced to abandon it.

He did not question Nature, nor the way of water.

There was no rain to bring about the fear of rivers breaking banks that afternoon, however. Spring sunshine smiled down on the pair, welcoming them.