Alpine Lake circles

She halted and only then did he see her for what she was, a timid doe. She compensated for it, but it was too late for her to save herself from a judgment cast. It was endearing, though it did not warm his heart, and his gaze remained with her to watch every muscle adjust in her body, in her gentle features. No, he did not expect her to understand though he could her, for the most part. But the less she spoke the better, perhaps, and his tail dropped to swing idly behind him as he found his voice to speak rough and low.

“Come here,” he said to her. “This one is not to be feared.”

It was possibly too late for that too, she had quaked and started and stopped her words. She had betrayed the confidence that had drawn her out when she could have simply hid away and he could have been none the wiser. His awareness of such was not lost entirely on him and in a vain attempt to seem a little bit less intimidating, he spoke again.

“This one does not harm the lítið rauður dádýr.” She had given him no reason to be the monster, at least not yet. Perhaps she would have some use, if he could find his words, if he could use them right. Or perhaps she would understand actions better; he could not decide what to make of the wolves here. He had scented them, but she was among the few he had lain eyes upon.