Whitebark Stream The river will be your eyes and ears.

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find us to the east.

the torrent had been hard and swift, driving the wolves of whitebark from their homeland quickly. germanicus had been loathe to leave, seeking a moderately higher ground only a short while before descending back to the foaming mess that had once been their home. he paced through floodwaters where he was able, swimming from ridge to ridge while he called out for those of whitebark not collected by artyom.

in the days that passed, the eaglebound traveled in the direction that the man had indicated, but never did he locate the pale leader, nor the family that called him father, nor his mate. discouraged, the soldier had found the remainder of their trail washed by downpour, and returned back to whitebark immediately.

he lingered now in the flatlands nearby, still swamped with the stream's offering, but ankle-deep in this place, and germanicus called again for those who might be near. despite his aloof mien, the man worried for the cubs that might not have made it through this calamity. and as his voice was carried off, the waterlogged centurion wondered if @Ico might hear — or @Célnes.

this time, if no one came, germanicus would not remain.