Qeya River I should've left that side of town alone

Zahir was downriver, fishing. The scents of pack wolves and their borders had faded from this place — not that she cared much, anyway. Blood red eyes were fixated intently on the fast-moving shapes in the water. The huntress struck out with a paw, catching one fish in the side. Before she could fling it from the water, however, it darted off. Zahir snarled, stalking upriver to find a new spot.

Here, she sees a stranger crossing the river. Her ears prick with mild interest, then she continued along the bank.