Whitefish River but I stay outside his reach

sólhárr stood in the steaming waters, the warm currents soothing the ache of battle and travel. his dark, muscular form was half-submerged, golden eye half-lidded in contemplation. the waters had nearly masked the approach of another until the soft crunch of pawsteps met his ears.

he lifted his head sharply, water dripping from his auburn mane, as his gaze fell upon the woman. she was thin, young, and unfamiliar, her steps purposeful, her expression unreadable.

his brow arched slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he pushed it aside.

he announced his presence with a grumble.