Bearclaw Valley bear with me

The devil of a wolf had scaled his way down the rocky slope to decent upon the Bearclaw Valley. Unafraid of the pre-existing packs that reside there, he passes through the thick coniferous tree filled forests. The ground crunching beneath him as heavy paws step on pine cones and pine needles alike.  He follows a silent stream that trickles through the valley and carries on through into the forest. 

His black, leathery nose hits the ground in an attempt to find something to kill and eat. He’s not terribly hungry but might as well take a sniff around. Though he stops on his attacks when he sees a small, white furred animal just beyond the stretch of land before him. He can’t help it when that devious smirk stretches his maw to show painfully large, white canines. He wants to have some fun. He decides, walking towards the animal ominously.

As he gets closer he realizes by smell it is another wolf. Only about forty feet away and downwind, his head tilts and his ruined ears perk up in curiosity. This being looks akin to a fox or oddly colored coyote. Que interesante. He thinks silently to himself. 

Circling around the small wolf, same devilish smirk laid cross his maw he reveals himself to the other before him. His massive form completely dwarfing the other. Body corded and thick with muscle flex as he stalks towards the wolf from the other side of the river expecting him to be able to hear his approach but the other seems too distracted by the river that he laps up. Until his figure freezes, it’s at this moments Santi realizes that the small wolf has seen his reflection in the water. 

His reflection all in all similar to a great bear. The wide head, strong muzzle, short cropped ears not looking big enough to be another wolf. Let alone his massive size could get him confused for one if he didn’t have such an unusually tinted pelt. Even his tail allows him the appearance of a bear, where it was docked he has only a nub.

His silvermoon eyes gaze heavily onto the wolf before him, waiting on the other side of the river to be noticed. His maw contorts into a devious, but still devilishly handsome smirk, even if it is equally terrifying.

“Boo.” He drawls deeply, more as stereotypical joke to spook the other. 

He comes only a hair closer, stepping into the shallow river, the water only going up to his mid arm, he stalks ever closer through the river. Just to startle him even further, wanting him to know that the water won’t stop Santi from getting to him.