Swift River journey to a shallow grave

Random Event: Coho and chum salmon are beginning their migrations. Waterways are seeing higher traffic as predators target the fish.

The weather had grown considerably warmer over the past weeks, though the swift melting of the snow and the sudden emergence of Spring vegetation came at a cost. The persistent heat had started to have an effect on the various waterways which snaked throughout the Lore. Merrick had noticed that the usual small stream he relied on to steal a quick drink along the edge of Willow Ridge had grown dry, leaving him to wonder if something had occurred further upstream to keep the water from flowing downstream.

So, when he found himself unable to quench his thirst when he arose that morning, the large male decided it was about time he investigate. Travelling north, he abandoned the sanctuary of the willows and headed towards the more dense cedarwood forests, following along the edge of the dried up muddy groove in the ground which used to hold the gentle stream.

As the river bed expanded and the terrain grew more rocky, the large male was concerned to find that still there was not a trickle of water in sight. What Merrick found instead was something even more disturbing; upon the dried barren river bed lay hundreds of dead salmon. Presumably they had begun their migrations upstream and not made it to their destination before the water had dried up.

Now their dry, shrivelled bodies lay strewn along a dusty mass-grave, their mouths still agape where they had struggled for their last breath; easy pickings for the ravens and small forest creatures who now plucked at their dull eyes and skin.

Merrick took in the sight in silence, an uncomfortable feeling growing inside his gut, before his attention was directed toward a pair of ravens who were bickering over one of the many large dead fish available. Stupid birds, he huffed, before rushing forwards to scare them away. He sniffed at the dead salmon cautiously, for once in his life, he was hesitant to consume the freely available food.

@Alarick

All things considered, life was pretty good, for the moment. There were some thoughts that continued to linger in his mind, eating at him, but Al did his best to ignore those in favor of pressing on with whatever duties he had. It seemed the ridge had gained a couple of new bodies, and that he and they had more or less settled into routines. It was nice, even if he was still a little distant from most of them.

Oddly, though, as of late - water had grown scarce. He had noted it a time ago, that water levels in the surrounding creeks and rivers seemed to be diminishing, but it had not been something he had given much thought to.

Now, with nearby sources running almost completely dry, the issue seemed far more pressing. It was not typically like him to wander so far from the ridge, but with each passing day the pressing need to find water - and with it, areas where prey would congregate - was an important one.

Disturbingly, however, the hunter noted that even the further north he went, there was still not a drop of water to be had. Even more concerning, though, was the trail of death left behind. He was not saddened by the loss of mere fish or frogs, but it was an alarming sign. A waste of life and of food, for his kind, or other predators.

So caught up was he in thoughts that Al failed to immediately note the presence of another of his kind until he spotted the other investigating the dead salmon. Thankfully though, the other carried a familiar scent, allowing Alarick to determine him one of his pack’s newer members. Such made him feel a little less wary of approaching or intruding, even if he was not intimately familiar with the other.

”Hey. This is.. not a good sign..” he breathed to announce his presence to the other, if he had not already caught it, anyway. Given their surroundings and the implications therein, a normal, cheerful greeting did not feel quite appropriate.