Whitefish River Little White Fish

Every day. And he did. The paladin was getting accustomed to the blistering heat of summer, the many little rivers helped and discovering the beauty of mid-day naps to sleep away the heat and enjoy the cooler nights had made life in the southern lands a little easier during half of the year, but he still thought back to home rather often. 

He found it was more baren here than it did in the great white north. There were more brown and dead trees in winter than the tall thick evergreens that claimed the forests back home. Granted there were still evergreen here, they just seemed less in comparison to the spread they had up in the tundra. 

The prey are plentiful, and once you find a pack who will take you in, the world seems to shrink. He thought back to all the times he would come across the same individuals, to how often he would believe Rusalka's claim was not large enough for them, and sometimes that it was too large.