Big Salmon Lake don't go, jason waterfalls

He had never gone this far west, had certainly never attempted to cross the mountains. But toiling up the flank of Shadow Mountain drove all thoughts from Cambria’s head. He felt nothing but the burn of his muscles as he climbed up, up, up, then down, down, down its far side. The descent was more taxing then the ascent. Cambria practically tumbled into the hollow below, collapsing in an exhausted heap with Wyvern circling overhead.

The following day, he scaled the crags nestled between Spotted Eagle Mountain to the north and Sawtooth Spire to the south. The Dragonling was sore, yet he he kept pushing himself until the ground grew flat and green beneath his paws. He soaked his aching muscles in Otter Creek, then made his way into the forest over yonder. He sank to the ground and fell asleep in seconds.

He could barely move the day after that. Cambria limped slowly westward, his eyes sweeping the prairies on all sides as he aimed for a distant stretch of woods. Just before he hit its edge, the glint of sunlight on water drew his attention. The Dragonling veered, the nighthawk’s shadow preceding him as he approached a scenic lake, its southern shore fringed with trees.

And there was a wolf there, a darker shadow against the backdrop of spring’s finest greenery. Cambria puffed out a breath as he rolled to a halt on the eastern bank, eyeing the stranger in the distance. He looked like he was trying to concentrate, so the Dragonling didn’t call any attention to himself. He had no desire to socialize anyway. He would grab a drink, then melt into the trees.

A familiar cry pierced the air, drawing his attention upward as Wyvern folded her wings to herself and dove, her body cutting through the air at what seemed like warp speed. Cambria’s pale ears flicked at the familiar sound, followed by a small splash. And then she was flapping skyward again, a small fish flopping in her talons.