Duck Lake I like driving backwards in the fog

Sanja could be patient.

She settled to her belly and lay there upon the bank, focused upon the distant movements of the water-bound flock, and did not sense the other wolf. It was not a comfortable position for her and soon enough Sanja was rolling to one side, then another, then her antsy adjustments became a frustrated sigh. The woman gets to her feet again.

Licking her lips, she tastes something upon the air — then looks away from the birds, directly upon the burnished stranger. The woman does not want to encroach and so she stays where she's standing, dipping her head with a careful nod and airy chuff, no doubt drowned out by the birds.