Whitebark Stream An exercise in futility

also using one post to arrive, one post to physically be in proximity!

he had been browsing the liberal clutch of fisheggs when the sound of an altercation boomed down the waterway -- murgash lifted his sodden head from the water and pricked his ears. sops of liquid smoothly departed from his chin, dribbling into the rushing boil of the stream below him.

he wasn't really inclined to leave a potential scene without instigating it, so casually he waded along the bank at a leisurely, arrogant pace. it was not until a female's howl called that he felt compelled to speed up his gait -- lady? his ears pricked in interest.

in his head he had already done the math:
stride in smooth as an otter's back, demand lady
fight off lady's attacker, kill it
lady falls madly in love with him, the dark (and mangy!?) knight
unable to fight her feelings, lady returns the favor by sexs
endless lady-bangings for murgash

it was an infallible theory, and one he pressed forward to test.

he was not so close that he could quickly intercept the assailant, though when he saw a grey blur and a red blob in the distance he called in his loud, permeating brogue: "OI! MALE DET BES TOUCHIN' DET LADEE." he started, slowing to a casual, cocky walk. "ye gives ladee to ole murgashy en he wont bites ye arseways, geddit?" he hoped from his distance that his mangy, offputting presence would be feared -- boldly, he placed his tail high over his head as he made way for the scrapping pair.