Big Salmon Lake hooked on a feelin'

Not a fisher? Well neither was Dingo, but he had a quota to fill, and this random dude had ruined everything! Maybe not everything. But the tan boy was irritated at this point, and would lay blame anywhere but upon himself. His short fur bristled and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but his tongue was tied; his feigned offense had become the real thing. A tiny flickering flame of annoyance which, when tended to by his thoughts, would become an all-out rage if the other wolf wasn't careful.

And then he was escaping. With a toss of his head he made his departure, and Dingo finally snapped back to himself. He got up from his perch at the lake's edge and at first, teetered between following or hanging back. He took to following after the stranger for a few steps, but was left in the dust, watching Macintosh saunter off in to the distance. Well fine, jerk! He began to shout across the field; then, realizing his voice would only startle the rest of the fish away from his chosen spot, Dingo fell in to pointlessly grumbling about the situation.

He turned back to the lake and resumed his patrol of the edge, searching for a quiet place to resume his task.