Whitefish River Someone has to face the valley

After his talk with Charon, some sort of energy built up in Gannet, threatening to boil over if it didn't get some form of release. So, unsure of what else to do... he ran. Ran until he couldn't anymore, and by the time he was finished, he'd hit the edge of a massive river.

Fear kept him this side as he stared at the water, and his ears flattened as he dropped to lay down, panting heavily. As he looked at the river he couldn't bring himself to cross, he had a sobering thought, one that had been lurking for a while. Maybe he was the problem after all.

It made sense. The Redhawks didn't want him. Liffey and Rannoch didn't want him. Moonspear wanted him, but not completely. Not really. Ever since his parents died, and his brothers disappeared, he couldn't think of a single spot that had wanted him. Why?

This was a new moroseness that was almost worse than the one he'd passed through when his leg was broken, because this had no foreseeable solution. Break his word and leave the mountain behind, or stay and eternally try to earn something he would likely never achieve?

No answer was forthcoming from the river, but he continued to watch it anyway, captivated and terrified in equal measure by the flowing breadth.