Whitefish River into your heart, into your soul

Exousia examined the fine specimen before her, appraising him for worth both seen and unseen. His turquoise eyes stuck out against the dark of his coat like two pinpricks of light, and his voice rasped as if he had not spoken in weeks. She came nearer, respectful of his boundaries but close enough to hold a level conversation.

Her tail waved idly, low and neutral, as she spoke. I am Exousia. Are you familiar with this area?