Porcupine Ridge immortals

There is a part of him that likes making young, pretty girls smile, and with an affable sway of his tail he shrugs his shoulders.  Well, maybe, he says, pretending to think about it.  Tell you what, if I find anyone that fits the criteria, I'll send 'em your way.

And then he had to really think.  It sounded like something he might've heard before, but he wasn't quite sure.  Eastern Bend, he offers, giving the name of the river in which his natal pack had begun.  Small world.