Big Salmon Lake s y m p h o n y

he made sounds but she ignored them, focussing merely on the water. he would slink away because she was no threat and she would remain here for a moment, two, and she would run and let the wind take her. one, two, three. counting was easier than watching the ripples in silence, and she did so, reverently, in her mind. she lingered on the verge of turning over and becoming fully and totally submissive, but her bat-like ears could hear his retreat, and so she was still. 

and then he was no longer retreating, but a long, guttural word stretched the space between them. she coiled tightly in on herself, rolling onto her back and drawing all her limbs close, similar to the death pose of a spider. this she held, though her head was still tilted away from him and towards the ripples, where she imagined some shadow beyond the field of her vision. it began to rain, then, and her coat soaked up each drop eagerly, and the cold grew more.