Whitebark Stream i don't know where i'm going but i just keep moving on

gjalla had not meant to linger. not really. she had come upon the girl by chance, lingering at the river’s edge with her head hung over the water. she'd learn it to be an attempt at fishing when the girl snapped at the water like a half-starved mongrel, only to recoil violently as it surges up her nose.

she stands at the treeline, half-shadowed, blue eyes sharp as they track the child's every awkward movement. a sharp, undignified snort leaves the bloodhunter before she can help it, an amused breath she quickly stifles. she steps forward, padding toward the water’s edge.

"you are embarrassing yourself, child," she grimaces, rounding the yearlings back to stand a few feet from her side. she is not cruel, only blunt, voice laced with a mild disbelief; “have you never fished before?” she questions, though it is already obvious.