Whitebark Stream gold

“Oh,” Daylily said, a bit disappointed that she would need to go elsewhere for water—if there was anywhere at all that wasn’t frozen over. She gazed with orange eyes along the length of the stream that disappeared into the distance. She glanced back at the pale woman, wanting to move on and find a shallower place along the bank to try and get a much-needed drink. However, she hadn’t had a conversation with another wolf in quite a while and was loathe to leave so soon. Perhaps the woman felt the same, for she asked for Daylily’s name after another moment.

“Daylily of Oakstead,” she replied softly, bowing her head. “What is your name?” She gazed upon the woman with curious, polite eyes, the manners she had been taught as a pup coming back to her.