Big Salmon Lake body of water

Ears flicking back at the sound of the voice, it's only when she's satisfied her thirst that Kipling lifts her snout from the water. Running her tongue over her lips to catch the stray drops that plop down beneath her raised head, she cocks a single brow at the silver wolf; as if she's only just noticed him. But her gaze seems to be disapproving, a clash against his vague smirking, and she shifts her stance so that she can look at him without having to turn her head.

Fish is a desperate fool's meal. Revealing her distaste of seafood, I eat real meat. Because Kipling was no longer a loner scavenging for scraps (including even leftover fish parts) she felt the act was an overexertion, perhaps because she didn't even know how to fish for herself. But given the choice, she certainly felt it wasn't the right one for her taste-buds. She could leave fishing for the cats and bears to workout.