Brief flashes of iridescent scales outlined the thin bodies of minnows swimming just beneath the surface of the shallow pool. Their portion of sunlight was meager; the fisherman remembered watching minnows as a child, the pond near their whelping den seemingly always in full communion with the sun. That pond could have put this offshoot of the larger stream to shame.

It was the sound of conflict several yards away which pulled Mack from his nostalgia. He stood from where he had laid, furrowing his brow as he turned toward the racket. Hey! he called out, You- ah! The feisty wolverine swiped across the unfortunate stranger’s face just as Mack was announcing his offer of assistance. Not wanting conflict with the little creature either, he followed the other’s retreat from his side of the bank. 

Once he’d trotted close enough to be within true earshot, but not so close as to corner an injured fellow wolf, the fisherman made another attempt. Looked like it hurt back there, he called across the babbling current, Probably got your ego pretty bad too, huh? A charming smile offered his intention to help, not harm the poor fellow. Awaiting a response, Mack preemptively placed a paw into the stream as he prepared to cross.

Apparent inexperience hinted at the victim’s youth, otherwise disguised by his muscular physique. His autumnal palette was complemented by the drip streaks of fresh blood from the gash torn into his cheek. Mack winced watching his tongue lick across the hacked flesh. 

Daring to take a half-step closer, he offered, Maybe rinsing it is a good idea. For himself, Mack preferred to follow-up the instinctual licking of wounds with fresh water each time; the stickiness of saliva matted his fur, giving him a mess to clean later if not promptly addressed. 

A frog leapt into the water, plop! Those ones don’t bite, the angler mused, teasing the stranger for his obvious misstep with the wolverine. Bending down, he lapped up a quick drink of water.