Greatwater Lake Coywolf to Coywolf

It took Red a little while to spot one of the swimming buggers [size=x-small](because Red is suddenly British ATM and wanted to use that word)[/size], but it was well worth the wait. She quelled her excited bark, which would most definitely scare away the fish, and instead focused on hunting. The trout — or, she guessed that’s what it was — was swimming around to her left, which put her in a weird position. She wouldn’t have a head-on shot at it. She’d have to twist her body around to catch it. She kept a close eye on its movements, tracking its whereabouts. Then, with a sudden jump in the water, she flipped her upper body to the left, jaws open to snap down on the food.

With a triumphant gleam in her eye, she began paddling to shore, the trout hanging limply in her jaws. It was a good day. With a wag of her now soaked tail, she dropped the fish at the black female’s paws, and then looked up at her, as if to say, “Look! I did it!”