Qeya River kuugaamiut

As summer progressed into a gradually chillier autumn, Anselm realized he was not yet well enough to leave. He’d lost condition since his fight with @Amadeo; the sleek musculature giving way to wastage. He’d never been fat to begin with, but now he bordered on weak. 

He noticed a malign loss of balance of late — an occasional neurological compromise that made him come to terms (in the most pragmatic way possible) with his limitations. Any hope of collecting Gideon and leaving were dashed by the occasional spells of weakness he felt upon the trail. When these moments came, his head swam as if he were held upside down underwater. The enormous loss of coordination was enough to force him to sit until the dizziness passed. 

He came to the river to drink. @Gideon was not so far off; Anselm had not once allowed the boy out of his sight since their reunion. As he drank, he saw a shape moving small stones and scratching the earth. Her scent indicated she belonged here; notes of the damp earth and Sun Eater clung to her pelt. 

He continued drinking, shoulders hunched as he watched her forage for meager worms.