Meetings 11
By early morning sunlight, Tyrel gazed in awe at the river Kieran had been aiming for. The rivers near the forts and towns were mere streams, compared to this torrent. There was no sign of a ford or a bridge anywhere that he could see—at least with his somewhat limited vulpine vision. Kieran paused at the edge, dropped the pack and raised his head to scent the air. He must have detected something, because he reclaimed the pack and set off downriver. The sun was high when he halted again, left the pack tucked under a bush, and moved forward…