Big Salmon Lake valleys formed where the wolf had lain

Skwol was not committed to catching the ermine. He enjoyed the chase more than he ever enjoyed a kill and he was ever mindful not to take the game so far that it he brought undue suffering to his prey. But this was not just any prey. The weasel was a capable and surprising predator despite its small size, and Skwol respected its tenacity and prowess. It was the deep respect of one hunter for another.

He was in motion. The white wolf had his head out of the snow in time to see the black female lunged after the ermine. He would not begrudge any wolf the opportunity for meat in this trying season but he hoped her teeth would miss so the chase could continue just a few moments longer. She did miss, but it seemed the spirits had decided it was the mustelid's time to go. It was quickly claimed by a opportunistic raptor.

The she-wolf chased and he ran alongside her, seeing the same that she did: that the small predator was only loosely grabbed and that there was a chance it would fall back to them. But then another shadow crossed overhead as a second hawk loomed for its chance at a meal. Skwol watched raptly as the weasel twisted and bit into the talons that gripped it, only to fall into the clutches of the second bird.

That bird, pursued angrily by the first, flew high and fast and was gone over the tree tops in the distance.