Mudminnow River the sandwich saved me

Fisher’s jaws open to complain about the joke of her name but she snaps her teeth shut when she realizes she hadn’t given her name yet.  Maybe she is someone from her old pack that knew her but she doesn’t seem familiar.  Nonetheless, her scent had other wolves attached to her fur that made her think she is apart of some other pack than her own.  

She does stop and turn, pointing her form back to the river she’d been walking away from.  Her gaze doesn’t drop from the dark female’s face, holding her gaze.  A challenge, maybe.  A threat.  

“What does it matter to you?” Her tone doesn’t change, lined with razors and acid.  She isn’t on the border of a pack seeking refuge and yet she is being pestered.  For what, fun? “Y’can’t hunt in the water anyway,” she adds, throwing her nose back to the river.  “Can’t even see what’s below the surface.”  Minnows occasionally pop up and they were concentrated in one spot and were hardly more than a snack.