Now, Namir was by no means a proficient fisher – shit, she wouldn’t even call herself a decent one – but she’d caught one little trout a day or so back, and that seemed to be enough to inspire the wolf to continue trekking along water ways to try her luck again. It was like the most bizarre form of gambling the youngster had ever gotten involved in; the dangers inherent to things like chasing deer didn’t apply here, but she still found a certain thrill that came with holding until just the right moment and lashing after the slippery little shiners. Shoot, she almost felt like the snake she was telling that other loner about!
Perhaps that was why the desert dweller hadn’t realized just how close she’d gotten to pack territory. She’d never cross – not intentionally, anyways – not after what she’d witness the wolves of Crow’s Crossing do to an unwelcome stranger, but the water wasn’t theirs exclusively, and as long as the fish were on this side, Little Crow didn’t see why they couldn’t be fair game. Standing a few lengths into the shallow edges of the Secluded Spring, the rest of the world was lost on the dusty wolf as she stared into the clear pool, watching, willing the rock bass to come closer.