Otter Creek I’m all yours

A reaction was expected, especially a negative one. So used to having shouts thrown back and forth after hunting mishaps, the actual response took him by surprise; this became apparent as he fell silent, watching the crouching canine. His brows scrunched together as he continued to stare at her, annoyance deflated and replaced by confusion—with a slight dash of pride over the fact that he wasn’t being challenged. Now curious of her—and needing to do something that would make the otters lose interest in him—he made a slow approach, head low and chin tilted downwards to protect his throat; he didn’t expect a fight, his guard was just raised considering where they were and her unknown origin.

Having yet to realise that she could neither speak nor understand his words, he asked again, “What are you doing?” His tone was more relaxed this time, less bothered by her being there and more interested in why she was. He stopped a few steps away from her and sniffed the air in her direction, finding something similar to the woods but not quite; she’d been there but he couldn’t determine whether or not she lived there. He decided then that it didn’t much matter either way as she didn’t know who he was, so there would be nothing to report back even if she was a part of them. Pushing the thoughts out of his head he stared at her expectantly, oblivious to her inability to provide an answer.