Big Salmon Lake don't go, jason waterfalls

The nighthawk disappeared among the foliage of a nearby tree, her feathers blending in well with the winding boughs. Cambria didn’t bother trying to pinpoint her location, particularly when he saw the wolf making an approach. He stiffened, wishing he could just disappear into the verdure as Wyvern had done. But he did not boast her camouflage and, besides, it was just too late.

The stranger seemed quite cordial. The Dragonling shifted his weight, maintaining a neutral expression and posture as he remarked about the local fishing. Just because he didn’t want to get close to anyone didn’t mean he couldn’t have a light conversation here and there, Cambria reminded himself.

But he found he just wasn’t in the mood today. So instead of making small talk with the male—Killdeer, he said—Cambria just cocked his head quizzically. He had known many nonverbal wolves, particularly on the rise. Pretending to be one of them, he offered what he hoped sounded like an inquisitive grumble.