Arrow Lake shooting fish in a barrel

"That is not how one catches fish, little friend!" Macawi called, having watched the fox for a moment or two. "If this one would like, Macawi will teach him."

She came over to him, grey and tan coat gleaming in the sun that had decided to peek through the clouds for a moment. "If fox does what he just did, he will only scare them away. One must be still…" Her voice dropped to a whisper: "And quiet." She gave the little creature a grin, fangs flashing, and then walked over to the water's edge and stared down into the water, face an inch or two from the surface.

"Watch," she whispered, "and learn." For endless minutes, she stared silently at the water, which reminded her of the day at the river with her friend Thistle. She wondered when she'd next see the pregnant wolf, and then shook herself from her thoughts. She couldn't let herself become distracted.

Soon enough, and unsuspecting fish came meandering over to her, unaware of the danger. And, like a snake, Macawi's head lunged downward into the water and snapped up the fish. She bit down until it stopped flopping, and then tossed it onto the bank, grinning again at the little fox. "There. That one is yours, friend."