Whitefish River It's a beautiful and a burning thing

I'll get this archived.

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It did not take long for the girl to admit that she should be returning to her pack. Kierkegaard was not at all surprised by this. The scent was in her pelt, and she had spent more than enough time listening to him speak of glacial caverns and ghastly wailing in the middle of the night. More than this, though; he was nothing more than a stranger to the girl. They had only just met. Nonetheless, Vienna was kind enough to bid him farewell before she departed, leaving him with uplifting words. His molten gaze followed her departing figure with a slow sigh before the hulking ghost gathered himself and slipped away into the surrounding terrain.
The day was still fresh, and he had been given plenty of things to think about in the conversation that he had with the flighty girl. She had been kind in nature and willing to listen to his monosyllabic responses with a smile on her narrow muzzle. More than this, though, the ashen-furred beast had been reminded how much he missed wandering into the great unknown. And his heart ached to think that he might never return to that lifestyle.