Whitewater Gorge The TV's on, the woman's blonde

She hadn’t expected to run into anyone out here. Nature was vast, and more often than not, she found herself alone, not that she minded. The solitude was welcome.

A voice called out, a male’s, cutting through the quiet. She stopped, lifting her gaze toward the sound.

Allo. You lookin’ to cross? Keep northward. There’s an easy gap to hop, should set ya right. Her tone was casual, matter-of-fact, but loud enough to carry across the gorge.

Careful when ya jump, though. Them ledges are slick with ice. Would be a shame if ya fell in. She tipped her head toward the eastern mountains, her expression darkening slightly.

Them mountains are feelin’ winter’s wrath. I’d tread careful if I were you.