Welcome to Gaia! ::

I Walked Across had traveled much since she’d hatched, but generally it was within the swamp, and generally the swamp’s waters, while deep, were still. She was still in the swamp now, but she was very far south and the waters before her rushed and roared past, white with foam. There were some rocks that pushed against the river’s brute tides, but not so many that Path could simply walk over them, and she did not see any of those fallen trunks that she had so often treaded over. And she was not dreaming, and so could not simply pass over the river.

Now, Path considered herself sturdy enough for a doe, but she certainly did not possess the strength necessary to ford this river alone. She’d have to reconsider the journey, or perhaps come back at a different date. She knew sometimes the waters up north would swell and become too deep to cross without swimming (which Path was accomplished enough at), and sometimes they would ebb, and Path could simply trudge across, since they were generally still waters (and sometimes, on the coldest days of the cold season, they were frozen, although not very often, and Path could find herself picking her way across the ice, testing it for weaknesses as she crossed). So perhaps that was an option for her. She could be patient, after all, and could probably survive around here for a few weeks, or maybe even months, while she waited. And the river was pretty when it was fast: Path could give it that.

Oh, but the thought of crossing now was so tempting! Perhaps what she sought would be gone, by the time the river calmed. She dipped her nose toward it wonderingly, and the sound of the water rushing past surged higher.

Alas, it was of no use to hear it better.

Path liked to observe things, but she was not particularly observant anyway. She hadn't expected a buck to be around, and so she had not looked for him, or noticed him, for that matter. She turned at his voice, anyway, though, and said as though she wasn't surprised: "I can't imagine the river swelling much higher. I'm sure that's quite a sight to see." She glanced back down at it - it was roaring, really. How much higher could the river get? Perhaps the banks were wider, when the snow first started melting. Or maybe - well, to be honest Path could not think of many scenarios for the river rising.

She'd never been imaginative, or a dreamer (she thought not, anyway). She smiled at the buck, though. "I am," she confirmed. "Although I'm not sure how that'd be possible. Does it get...calmer, downstream? Or upstream?" She asked the questions matter-of-factly, with the assumption that he'd answer. He'd already volunteered information for her, after all, and she was so curious. She did not apologize for the questions.

He seemed like a very helpful buck. Well-traveled, perhaps? Or perhaps this was the territory at which he spent most of his time: he certainly seemed to know it well, and of course he'd known what this river had looked like a few weeks ago. Traveling the swamp was not for everyone, and she could not blame those who didn't like to sightsee as she did. "I'm I Walked Across," she added. "But I'm called Path, much of the time."

"No, I don't think I'd want to see that."

Path smiled, a little sheepishly. "Don't mind if I do - do you live around here?" The doe followed, her steps deceptively delicate on the bank's surface. She gazed, awed, at the river as they walked. Of course she'd seen water before - they lived in a swamp. But the swamp's bogs and slow, still waters could not compare to this river's majesty.

"Hello, Brightroar," she said. "Your name is short enough to remember, at least - it must have been an interesting dream." She took pause here. "I'm sorry. I'm not ordinarily this talkative, I don't think." Of course, ordinarily she traveled alone. There was no clan of kin to support Path. She supposed, though, that she didn't need one, although company was certainly nice.

"I suppose it's not common, no," Path replied. "That's interesting, though - I'm a bit of a traveler myself." She'd always prided herself on it, actually, but she wasn't sure that Brightroar wanted to hear any self-centered rambles. "And to answer your question - I don't think I visit any place more than another. Well, there's a watering hole out...west of here; I've always found it a very private place."

She put a hoof on the log. It might have been harder for her to keep a balance, with such a short tail, but at the same time, she'd never known anything else. Her tail had always been short and, well, fluffy - even as a little foal.

"I'm sure that I will remember, in addition, your coat patterns," she suggested, a little slyly. She wasn't usually flirtatious, but this buck was interesting.

"Well. It's not a place for words, I would say," she replied, even-toned. Path took a little leap off the log - playful, but still clearly reserved (it had not been a very long leap; she could have breached the distance in an easy step). "Lovely, though."

She turned to face him again, now, and stepped back as she remembered that he'd have to get on the bank, as well. "Yes, it's noticeable." She waited a moment before adding, cheekily this time: "Perhaps the river by which I met you, then."

"Perhaps we should. It's a ways from here, though; travel, perhaps, for another day." She said the words calmly, but there was certainly an air of invitation about them: she would not mind his company, should he be willing to volunteer it. And she didn't step away, when he stepped closer. The soft green glow of her gaze was warm.

"I do not mean to offend," she said, as if a little frightened, at his outburst (but it was probably clear that she was not - she was not always afraid where she should have been, although of course she'd have stopped if she'd felt she'd caused true anger) - and then, "Well, maybe there is a little play in mind." She paused, looked over him again. "But don't your reactions make you more memorable?"