Whitewater Gorge we have no evidence it wasn't

Marred half-sight narrowed at his apparent admittance; and so perhaps he was simply meandering along by.

Still—
what audacity that stirred within him, to ask whatever there was to find here! 
“There is much to find here. Bloodwort, stonecrop, ironweeds. On ze cracks and ze crevices and in hidden nooks. Have you never foraged a gorge before?” The herbalist looked the specter before her with a critical, half-blind assession; tail aquiver at her hocks as an irritant feline’s might.

Yet, with a stature so diminutive as hers, it was more like a stubborn feather being mollified that the wing it’d rooted in now meant to shed it. 
The silver still held the hope of shooing her distractor away, though, despite his proclamations and demeanor that showed he’d done nothing wrong at all. What a... a... “You burr,” she hissed, attempting to find some way to knife her insult between the ribs of his intrusion.