Whitewater Gorge some girls hate their bodies

@Ryzhov

There was a point where Abel had made his way out of the valley. He could not pinpoint when exactly. Each day’s activities had long since become a blur since being at that lake. He just remembered moving forward, maneuvering around the intimidating mountains, and forward again.
Now he was far, far away from the hell that was Ursus. And with that distance came a sense of relief. Finally he could think.
Mom is alive.
That one bit of information, vague as it may be, at last could be completely relished. It gave him the will to keep moving forward. Maybe he could find her somewhere. He had to. Then they could both meet up with Indra.
There were a few problems though: Laurel was back in Rivenwood, too close to the valley. He was too afraid to go back there soon, that he would only admit to himself. And Indra.. well.. he hadn’t a clue where she could be or if she’s even escaped to begin with. 
Abel refused to lose what hope he’d managed to scrounge up though. He slowly walked along the gorge in search of any sign of his sister.

Disappeared. Ryzhov had not seen his Pakhan in quite some time, and his scent had faded from the lands. It had left him… lonely. It had left him abandoned. It left him seeking vengeance. Had he, perhaps, grabbed his bride and run for the hills to abandon his best friend who had never left?  He paced the gorge, trying to find some kind of purpose or meaning to it all. It simply was not fair.
 
His tail lashed side to side in irritation, his usually dour mood made quite worse by the latest in a disappointingly long string of betrayals, his own and those done to him abound all around him and in his head. He almost did not notice the scent of another, nose flaring as his eyes lifted to find a strangely confusing creature. “Who goes there?” He demanded, his thick Russian accent carrying over the distance between them, his stature building as his shoulders rolled back.

He’d rather be alone than hear whosever voice that was. It was loud and demanding. His very bones seemed to rattle by its base. And the man, well, Abel would expect no less from someone with such a voice. He towered over the child’s shrinking form, even with the distance between them.
Too scatterbrained now to coherently think, he stammers, N-Nobody. Like a fool. I’m just — I’m looking for my sister.

He was a tiny little thing, and a stammering mess to boot. It proved his incompetence and normally Ryzhov likely would not have looked twice at the shriveling thing but his poor mood just charged him forward. “Nobody? Well, nobodies don’t have sisters…” He stated with a low growl, creeping forward to get a closer look at the twig he might snap if he spoke incorrectly.
 
A sister? “Why would you care where the no doubt even tinier bitch is?” He challenged, his eyes narrowing as he looked him up and down.

Perhaps Abel would have thought him crazy for the retort had he retained it in the first place. But he was too frightened by his sudden advance to hear what he’d said. 
He did catch on to his question though and the insult in particular. Despite his fear, Abel felt himself rise slightly. 
She isn’t a bitch. Curse his big mouth. His glare fell, and so did he.
C-cause she’s probably in trouble, that’s why.

Sorry for the delay! I ended up crashing the night we spreed and then exams the next few days

She wasn’t a bitch? The Russian scoffed at such a notion, a growl rising deep from his throat. “All women are bitches.” He stated back, a mocking hint to his tone as his head tilted to the side and his lip curled in disgust. Perhaps he had mislabeled this one as a man… perhaps he was just as weak and pathetic as those who he claimed weren’t all bad.
 
Trouble? “Oh, no doubt she’s in trouble… she probably got herself into it too.” He hissed out as he circled him. “Their kind is always getting into trouble, throwing themselves at others and causing conflict instead of knowing their place and staying home to do their job.”