Duck Lake gold slugs

The blue-nosed wolf was not a creature for whom feral instincts ran strong. He relied more on his intelligence and his social abilities. That was not to say that he did not possess basic instincts, but when Luke caught a whiff of coyote near the lake, his first reaction was not that of the typical primordial wolf, for whom coyotes were a rival. His reaction was to pause, to consider the scent and note its youth, and then to be led by curiosity to find the creature to whom it belonged — not to kill, but to observe.

He spotted the whelp as she turned from the shoreline, perhaps spotting him at the same time. When he had left the hollow, it was to scout for a flight of migrating ducks coming into the lake, in a bid to score some bird meat for the hollow's caches, but now his thoughts were elsewhere. He cast a glance in either direction, but he could see no other coyotes; not that he had expected to, for her scent had been isolated. She was too young to be on her own; compassion tugged at his heart.

With his body held low in a friendly, inviting fashion, and his tail waving behind him, he loped gently toward her. He came to a stop some distance from her so as not to crowd or alarm. "Hey there," he greeted softly. "What are you doing out here alone?"