Whitewater Gorge thy waters rise

what is this word vomit. i apologize.

A dove appeared seemingly from nowhere above her head, and Pumpkin smiled as she watched it. With the summer nearing its end, she wondered if it would fly south for the impending winter. Did doves do that? She knew geese and ducks did, but that was all she had learned of that subject before leaving home.

After a moment, she brought her orange eyes back to earth and spotted a white wolf sitting on the edge of the gorge. Another white wolf—the second in a handful of days. Was this a land of wolves who looked exclusively like her? She doubted it, and besides, that would be boring. The world needed color, which was why Pumpkin’s favorite feature were her eyes.

“Hello there!” she said, approaching the female with a wag to her tail and a grin on her face. She thought the woman had muttered something but had been unable to hear it over the sound of the rushing water below them. She took a seat nearby, though without getting too close. Her mother had instilled some manners in her (though she didn’t always follow them), and those included not popping others’ personal space bubbles. It had nothing to do with caution, for Pumpkin was naïve and didn’t ever come into a situation thinking someone might be anything other than kind. This had been fine in her home, where everyone was safe and warm, but out in the unknown, blind trust could be foolish. Whether this lesson was burned into her brain at some point would be left to time and chance.

The woman before her looked mild enough in temperament, even if she had plenty of scars along her body and face, which Pumpkin tried valiantly not to look at. She turned her face away, watching the sky instead.