Whitefish River Red Bull and minivans

His. Theirs.

Possession is a distant concept, something the bear has humored in passing. Certainly, he wishes to keep individuals safe, and yet, never had he a territory to stake claim on. Broad chest puffs with pride, each step gaining confidence until Evergreen practically marches across the borders. Now all he needs is a music to match his strides to.

Alas, upon their doorstep lingers yet another soul. This one, too, seeming fascinated by the river. Evergreen can relate to that, especially during this time of day, when the colors of the sky reflect. His jaws part, eyebrows furrow, and he lingers with his mouth unclasped until a gasp escapes him.

“Oh! I know you.” Eyebrows lift, surprise consuming the bearish wolf’s expression. Slowly a smile curves across the dark of his muzzle. “Uhmmm… Winter…” ‘Winterborn?’ That didn’t sound quite right. “Winterbourne, right?”