Big Salmon Lake count my cards, watch them fall

the pair move parallel to the lake in a strange, clipped dance. the stag is old, seasons past it's prime and made weak by illness. still, it's sharp-edge hooves are swift, and desperation makes them swifter. the wolf is young, too young, perhaps, but patient. adopting a wide-legged stance, the stag lowers it's head, tired eyes finding the shoreline where the wolf drinks. the sides of both creatures heave, the wolf panting. but when the stag makes for the water, the wolf charges, and abruptly does it stagger again further down the lakeshore. this is the game they play; the wolf worrying the stag, the stag keeping the wolf at bay, until one of them tires beyond recovery.