Arrow Lake diving into destruction

Björn remained down wind of the multicolored female and did not immediately scent her, but there were succumbing sounds, the sound of hoof beats against toughened and sharpened rock, followed in heartbeats of a second by the heavy thuds of a predator. Scarred and unscarred ears slicked back to his head as it rose from the water’s surface, droplets free falling off of his wet chin, salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls to capture them before they could continue to presently drip, drawing over leathery, black nostrils as he took a decided step back from the bank, repositioning himself to see the billy goat hopping along in the hopes of losing it’s stalker - a fire kissed wolf whose gender he could not exactly determine without being up close, or scenting it. Nevertheless, could he be so heartless and let it take down and slaughter the goat?

Lips twitched back from his teeth in a moment of contemplating knowing he would have to make his decision and soon.

Of course it was inherently rude to ruin another’s hunting and would lead in anger and likely an attack, but at the same time it was a goat. This made some small measure of difference to Björn for he had once had a baby goat as a pet until his older brother, (the original Björn) had killed it and eaten it. It was not as insignificant as one might think because goats were associated with the god Thor, a son of Odinn. As it was the Viking did not care much for if it was rude or not - surely a creature that raided and murdered wolves that didn’t bother fighting back didn’t care about social customs (he didn’t, really) and let out a bark to announce his presence, lest it had went unknown, figuring that if the other wolf came charging at him if it lost it’s prey he could innocently suggest that he had not seen the goat. If wasn’t fool proof but Björn was confident in his cunning abilities.