Swiftcurrent Creek roar

Very few wolves would ever desire to intrude onto pack territories, and very, very few wolves would ever desire to do so involuntarily. It was not as if the little red wolf was looking for trouble. Rather that she had a knack for it. It was her specialty, one that she did not often tout, because it often led others to judge her as either unlucky, careless, or even stupid. She never appreciated these judgements as she believed they missed the point: that hers was a gift of adventure and freedom from all things routine. If you asked her how she got into her present predicament, she would say it was the foxes' fault and then go into a long-winded story about her harrowing night deep in the belly of Blackfoot Forest. However, given that she was currently drowning--swept down a good length of Swiftcurrent Creek--she probably would only give you gurgles in response, and you would judge her no lesser for it. The current was true to its namesake. The little red wolf felt her body move according to the will of the waters. They dragged her across sandbars and then pulled her through spaces between jagged rocks. She did not feel pain but rather an overwhelming panic that she would not be feeling much of anything soon enough. Her feeble attempts to gain purchase on the quickly passing shores and larger rocks were in vain, and it was not certain whether her cries for help were audible over the loud roar of the waters. Roar? That must have been the sound of a waterfall, and suddenly everything became quite funny to her. She began to laugh, and seeing as she was already choking, she choked with laughter.