Big Salmon Lake valleys formed where the wolf had lain

The snow that came for her was no deterrent for the Ostrega, whose rapidly blinking eyes were now for the weasel that was attempting to see another day. As it rocket-launched off the pale man's rear, Hydra went from zero to sixty. She lurched forward and was after it as it contorted in the air. Fetch was a game Hydra enjoyed—as it began to descend, Hydra watched it flail and shriek as her jaws opened wide to catch it before it hit the ground—

But they had not been the only ones after it. Some hawk came from out of dodge and took their morsel for itself. Hydra's clicking fangs caught but a tailfeather, and she snarled, disappointed, her eyes having yet to leave the hawk and weasel. It was not yet dead and struggled in its captor's grasp—its grip was imperfect, and Hydra darted after them on the off-chance the weasel escaped its clutches.