Had I known I was partaking in some kind of meditation, perhaps I would have undergone such a thing more often. Truth be told, I had always been a waterborne wolf it seemed; I had taught a young Bluejay to swim, having spent afternoons with Nero, too, in the water. I had spent enough time challenging the sea and river of Paracon that this creek, this unnamed place, simply felt natural. Even after he left, this stranger that had come to join me, I would undoubtedly set myself up by the river to rest for some time. Perhaps I would find myself a temporary home somewhere close to the banks. I reveled in that thought, breathing in deep to fill my mind with the scent of fall. He spoke then of the river, and I cannot help but find myself nodding along in some kind of silent agreement. His words are cryptic, though perhaps they ring truer than anything I have heard in the last few years. Nothing can stay the same, not even I - we must change, we must bend at times so that we do not break. The river never ceases to progress.