Bitterroot Valley is there even a way to tell them apart?

loamy banks that borders bitterroot valley offers him some purchase as he pulls himself from the qeya river. the early morning held a chill, painting the grasses with a soft layer of frost from the night before; not yet thawed. the river was colder yet. but it was refreshing, a startling jolt to push the last, stubborn vestiges of sleep from ezra.

a hearty shake is given to help speed the drying process, the sun warm along his back.

small breakfast of fish caught during his bath and tossed haphazardly to the banks — with the hope that they were not fortunate enough to flop back into the river — is made quick work of, bones and uneaten remnants hastily buried before tending to his duties of the day.