Whitefish River And horror in the halls of stone

Mal sometimes missed jokes.  Or maybe it was just this one time because he was kind of frustrated and unable to see things other than from his own perspective. Though there were plenty of scenarios where Mal's imagination ran utterly wild, this was not one of those, which spoke more of his inexperience than anything.  It was frozen before... was thus his reply, with a bit of a frown.  Honestly, he wasn't even sure if this was a river he crossed, but since he couldn't remember it existing it had probably been buried under ice and snow so it basically didn't exist anyway.

But hey, you know what, if this guy actually knew a way across, at least he'd be useful.  He wasn't sure whether anything was expected in return (hopefully not, Mal was pretty useless in many ways), but at least he'd be back on his trip and he'd probably not end up super late or anything.  Okay!  He probably sounded more determined than excited (let's be real, Elysium was not an exciting destination to him, it was more like doing homework).  Mal would be quick to start upstream, keeping a close eye on the grey dude just so he didn't lose track of him along whatever foliage might clutter the shoreline.