It had been some weeks since the river had begun to slow; it had been slow at first but eventually, the water had taken on a new kind of strength. It had swallowed up the usual riverbanks and carved new, deeper paths through Glorall’s border. The usual path Badar took across to Diveen had, for the most part, been cut off from her. She was glad it remained intact, at least. She could still see the boulders standing despite the water threatening to conceal the path entirely at times. All the rain had also stopped her from her usual past time of swimming and basking, though she had found at least some new, temporary streams that fed into the river. They served well enough, but still, she’d often lay about and watch the swollen river with both awe and contempt.

But some day or two ago, she had noticed a peculiar buildup of tree debris beginning to form where the river began to open, ready to pour into the sea. The branches and trunks had begun to tangle up on themselves and the rocks alike, crashing and groaning until they came to a standstill. The water continued to roar through and under the logs but eventually, it too was forced to detour. Over it, a violent culmination of debris had created a bridge of sorts, the water unable to go over and so, it had begun to go over, stirring a huge torrent on the other side. Rapids! Badar had thought with excitement, but it was the bridge that had been truly captivating. It groaned, growled and would emit a deep, cracking sound at times - other times, it’d seemingly screech before a lightning-sharp crackle would break free. Yet, it didn’t truly move. It swayed just a little, and some smaller branches would sometimes come free and escape the other side but for the most part, it stood steadfast for two days at least. It was then that she had decided to show her father.

She had led the way with little patience to wait. By the time they had arrived, her heart was fluttering in both excitement and the exertion of how fast she had pushed them to arrive. It still stood, of course, just as it had for the days prior but, to her at least, it seemed even more magnificent when viewed without rain obscuring it. She turned to face her father with a broad grin, the bridge behind her, as if presenting it to him with a wide, sweeping motion of her muzzle. Behold! it said, and the bridge gave out one of its customary growls as a new, small batch of old branches joined into the fray. The wolves of Glorall had become accustomed to the water’s roar but up close, one could feel the humidity from the river. Even the very edges of the river seemed to be alive with water spray.

Badar gave her father a quizzical look then, and then she frowned and nudged him hard with her muzzle. She used her own to move his up, unafraid to do so despite his disinterest in physical touch. Badar figured she had been born of his blood and without words and thus, he ought to be willing to adapt for her. So, her intentions were clear – call for others, or at least let them know there’s something of interest to be found. And so, he did. And she whirled about as he howled and moved to investigate the edge of the bridge where it met the ground itself.