Mudminnow River the sandwich saved me

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It had taken her some time to figure her way out of the creepy grove and upon a river flowing south.  When she’d gotten out, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders.  Fisher finds a resting spot a few miles down the bank of the river.  It’s the first time since she left her former home.  Full feeling had started returning to her feet and the burn of her aching limbs had subsided.  Her thirst had been quenched and her stomach filled enough to keep going.

Having come across several wolves that didn’t know who she is or where she’d come from, the voice in the back of her mind—you best keep running—had begun to fade.  It lingers still but it doesn’t grip her.  A recharge had done some good but now she is left facing winter without a home, without any wolves for support, and Fisher confident on the outcome.

Looking for a new pack doesn’t settle well in her stomach, feeling a lurch deep in her gut.  She shuffles a few steps down the river bank, trying to clear her mind.  Fisher drinks from the murky water and wrinkles her nose at the taste.