<blockquote><font style='margin-left:20px;'><b><i>WORK IT MAKE IT DO IT MAKES US</i></b></font>
<i>This</i> was why Marsh didn't leave the falls.
Due to an odd sense of obligation - to who? himself? - Marsh had decided to explore further than he had since 'settling' near the waterfalls. Tedium wasn't something he normally had to battle, since Marsh always had a duty, a pack to serve, orders or commitments to fulfill. It was unsettling to have no responsibilities beyond his own survival; it felt like a half-existence, and it didn't satisfy.
Having yet to travel north - or south or east, in fact - of his temporary den, he decided to amend that. His decision was made by the wind; it blew from the north this morning. The land would come to his nose before he came to the land; he would be alert and safe and, best of all, informed. He was growing attached to this region; it felt good to be more confident with moving through it. Who knows what he would find; a better food source, a more defendable, secure area for a loner's den. Maybe some leadership, a reason to exist?
We can only hope.
<font style='margin-left:20px;'>Yellowed teeth bared, the wolf growled, the sound low and deep in his chest. Every muscle was tensed, his ears back, his tail high, his nerves like fire. He still had one foot in the water, forgotten, left there in the shallow bit of river he had been quenching his thirst with. It had been as innocent as that. Having naturally sought out the river as an easy landmark, he had been pleased to hear the gentle water movements, his own actions encouraged by it. He had thought it a good sign, a sign he could stop and rest. He had let his senses dull for just a moment, and it had cost him.</font>
He hadn't realised that the squat cherry trees he had been strolling casually through were the territory of a young, volatile black bear.
The beast hadn't even been fishing; he had been feasting on the cherries on the far side of the river, quite content. The wind had shifted since Marsh had set off, and was now far calmer and less southernly; Marsh no longer got a faceful of what was in front of him. That had been the first thing to go wrong.
The number of mistakes between that point and this, with Marsh desperately trying to present himself as a foe not worth taking on, were utterly lost and probably numerous.
The bear, edgy in his inexperience but great in his enthusiasm, growled back at the smaller wolf across the water, the noise rather more impressive in his larger lungs. He didn't seem to be able to decide what to do; on the one hand, he could make noises until the wolf went away and carry on eating. On the other hand, he could charge over there and rip the things to shreds; though there was much less difference between a wolf of Marsh's stature and a black bear than a wolf and a grizzly bear, the bear still had a distinct advantage. Marsh could not hope to match his power. The best he could do was hope to outrun the bear, but to turn tail would be to encourage a chase. Though his muscles did not burn, they had been eager for a rest, and though Marsh was quite sure of his stamina, he wasn't so confident about his speed. Would the fact that the bear had to rush across the narrow river give him enough of a head start? For now, it was stalemate, but the bear wasn't one for waiting; upping his vocal output to an impressive bellow, he dropped his paws into the river, advancing just the tiniest bit, pushing his advantage, testing his foe.
Marsh was still undecided.
What was a wolf to do?
<font style='margin-left:20px;'><b><i>HARDER BETTER FASTER STRONGER</i></b></font></blockquote>