Whitefish River Pale Underbelly

Wicken hesitantly trailed behind the lighter colored male. He nodded his head in acknowledgment as he learned the strangers name. A strong name for a strong wolf, even if he was smaller than Wicken's height. He appeared to be much healthier with knowledge only age could bring, and the kindness that Marcus exuded did not go unnoticed by the lanky wolf. 

 

His tail waved behind him lightly while they walked. An indication of his excitement at the opportunity to learn how to catch a new prey item. He had been limited thus far and fresh food was exciting.

He watched as the russet male settled by the edge of the water. His paws carried him to the edge of the water with a space between them to leave a respectful amount of room, but he turned to watch what he was doing all the same. Wicken's yellow eyes avoided his while he watched the water and waited. Thank you... for being willing, I mean. I appreciate it. He spoke to him in a whisper before they began, nervous to scare the fish away with the volume of his voice.