Whitefish River Solo estamos tú y yo

Far to the east he ranged, this trip surely to consume the day. He had expressed his venture to @Nyx before departing towards the river, keen on seeing how things had changed in the weeks that had passed since then. It seemed just as pertinent to stretch his legs over less familiar ground, to shed the weight of responsibility if only for a short while. He wasn't quite eager to say things were coming together, but the woodland was inclined to house more than he and his sister. A meager band of wolves to tend to things, the very thing he sought to test by excluding himself temporarily.

The rush of water reached him long before he had a clear line of sight on it, the recent rains having broadened and altered its course ever so gently in the swath of plain. The mountains in the east stood proudly still as he regarded them, and the interior flatland held fast to warmth shed by the coast. Intermittent sounds were to follow; frogs, crickets, flighty songbirds all sang their chorus pieces to add to the idyllic scene. It was pleasant, if nothing else.

With little mind to whether or not the muddied banks were occupied, he ranged along them in the shallow waters, long legs into broad strokes as he felt the silt laden bottom and what they had to offer. He considered trying his hand at fishing, able to pick out the dark shapes of fish just a reach away, but it seemed frivolous—it was not his preferred way of hunting, though he had some skill with it. Instead Dirge observed them as he trailed along, his tail waving out of beat with his watery steps.