Tuktu Weir maybe I'm a different breed

Once Dash was coated in mud, he climbed up onto the top of the beaver dam. He was pleased to feel the wall shifting under his weight-- removing the large branch had clearly weakened its structural integrity.

Surprise, surprise-- his company declined to take a mud bath. "Eh, you probably don't need it anyway," Dash replied, noting how soft and luscious her creamy coat appeared already. The woman's decision was probaly for the best... Dash had just realized that the only way to get the mud off was to take an actual bath-- as in, jump into the lake. In December. 

She admitted that he seemed to know what he was talking about. Dash flashed another easygoing smile, bowing at her from the top of the beaver dam. "Some people say.. I'm not as stupid as I look." To be fair though, he did look pretty darn stupid, perched on top of the King Elk Forest's biggest shit pile, coated from head to toe in the thick, lumpy tarlike substance. 

With that, he leapt. The boy splashed down into the lake, resurfacing with an explicative already on his lips. "Fuck!" he swore, "F-fucking c-cold!" He began to swim, propelled to move by his plunging body temperature. Once he reached his new friend's shore, he emerged dripping and shivering, but more or less clean. 

"So whatcha d-doing here?" he asked, jaw chattering a bit from the cold. How was it that he had found himself dripping wet in front of a strange lady twice now in as many days? "Did you come to tear down the dam too? Thing p-p-pisses me off," he said with an annoyed look thrown over his shoulder at the dam. No, such a pretty lady wouldn't want to do such dirty work. She was probably from Rosings, and Rosings ladies didn't like to muddy their paws.

"Oh, no, you're here to hunt the beavers!" he guessed again, eyes lighting up as he found what must be the right answer. "I hate those things, I hope you k-kill 'em all."