Whitefish River serendipity

The first thing I should tell you is that traveling is overrated, Frolic began when prompted, her tone cavalier but something on her face indicating the sincerity of her words. With that said…

She cleared her throat, took a breath and began talking about those early days, when everything had been rosy. Frolic had met many people, seen many places, learned many a new thing. All were shared candidly with her friend, up to a point.

The last place I stayed was called Fisher’s Ridge. I wasn’t there long before I decided to come home, she concluded, saying little about that particular village. I haven’t been there yet—home, I mean. But that’s alright. I’m glad I ran into you first.

She felt a strange ache as she regarded her friend. Frolic spoke the truth. She wished she could stay here for ages, just chewing the fat with her best and oldest friend. But her own actions had made that impossible. She shouldn’t linger here long, putting Seal in danger, not only from others but maybe even Frolic herself.

I wish I could stay longer, she said after drawing in another big breath, but I should probably get going. I don’t know what my plans are beyond seeing my family, though I can let you know if you tell me where to find you.

Frolic had kept her original promise to come back. This one, she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep. Guilt stuck in her throat like a wad of meat.