Whitebark Stream There's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

there was another, she was aware of this a brief moment following the beginning of her feast. well, perhaps she ought to not go to the extent of calling a single fish a feast, yet in the winter, it took little to fill her diminished stomach. her ears perched erect atop her skull, ignoring her prey for a moment, charcoal optics searching the snowscape and falling quickly on the stranger. salmon tongue flicked from her maw to catch swiftly a stray scale perched on her muzzle, and though she did not speak, her brow furrowed in silent question as to the male's intentions. 

she would not return to the remnants of her meal, not until the male's intentions were discovered. instead, she eyed him coolly, wondering if he would approach or simply continue on his way. she inhaled in the slightest, catching his scent as the wind bore it toward her, of pack. perhaps he was with the Republic, as the woman had called it. she wondered exactly where they settled, idly, and if it would interfere with her budding plans. she most certainly hoped not.