Whitefish River Out of the dark

She watched the woman's unsuccessful fishing with a gaze that went from wary and steeled to soft and sympathetic. She knew hunger, she knew what it was like to be unable to catch a meal. She thought about offering the stranger her rabbit but a coil of selfishness and a pang of something like fear shot through her at the thought of losing the rabbit that had given her the strength to survive. She couldn't do it, she couldn't bring herself to part with it. She caught sign of silver flashes beneath the surface of the water a bit downstream and she flicked an ear, heading in that direction while keeping an eye on her rabbit. She took position by the edge of the water and held her muzzle over the surface, steadying herself so she was still as a statue. She would see if she could catch a fish for the woman, perhaps her luck would be better.