Whitefish River Very scary doll

Chusi didn't know how she had become so nice to strangers. Perhaps it was because most strangers had been nice to her in return, though she was sure she didn't do it for personal gain. Doing good felt good, doing bad felt the opposite, and so it would stay for her. She didn't understand wolves that liked hurting others - innocent ones, that was. For if someone wronged her, of course she'd be less nice too. And it looked like the other didn't mind the hospitality nor the offer of food - Chusi didn't mind sharing meals, even if she wasn't the best hunter and currently needed her strength for her adventure. Yes, the other smelled of pack, but who could refuse food?

I' was nice ta see sumone havin' fun 'round 'ere. Chusi commented at her apology, shifting her form to comfortably face the other and the pile. She motioned for the other to sit, finally able to observe her better, but mostly her eyes. They were more fire than Chusi's own - lighter and seemingly flowing with a golden liquid made of the yellow flowers Chusi had seen as a wee babe. They were captivating, for sure, and Chusi had no doubt boys would find the same - but there were more pressing matters at hand; dinner!

'Hope ya like whitefish 'n chub - 'couldn't find others, though they're pr'tty easy ta catch. She informed, sliding a fish over with her paw to the other and one to herself. The two rabbits and the last fish were shoved to the side for the time being. Chusi lowered her muzzle to take a bite, surprised it wasn't as salty as the ones she had caught at sea. They were sweeter and less rough around the edges - nicer, if one would ask Chusi. What's up tha mount'n? 'Mean, where ya come from? She asked then, not able to get over the other's scent.