Whitefish River You Look Like A Nice Person

Try as he might to appear a passive creature, the young one is evident spooked—feisty, too. Instead of darting for cover, she stands her ground with little daggers shown in threat. The bear has no doubt that they would hurt—Evergreen now feels sorry for himself and the parents rearing the kids of the future, there is no doubt that he would soon be at the end of those teeth. Yet, he hoped not too soon.
His ears airplane out to the side, a low whine and tail wag again to display that he is not here to harm. Merely to check on the youngster. How powerful she must feel to have the bear kneel to her tiny presence.
Though all he gets from her vocally is a growl that rumbles continually—a storm cloud ready to burst—she gives a nod. Excitement grows at the information. He could certainly let his scouts know then, where to look. That is neat! I love rivers, which is why we have settled here, he explains, have you eaten fish before? Once you have, I promise you won’t go back. He is bias on many levels, and most wolves he has met dislike the taste of the scaly creatures, but he could only hope that this feisty girl might take a liking to it.