There was nothing lively about Aupaluktok. Nothing to indicate she was a living thing, save for the slick manner with which she drank. The sounds of her were covered by the subtle sound of the river.
When her thirst was sated, she lifted her head once more and watched. She did not know what she was watching for, only that the action was vital. A breeze rippled through the trees around her and she listened. Her mind drifting with the white noise while a thread of fluid dripped from her snout, sprinkling absently across the surface.
There was nothing here. Or, if there was something, it remained hidden. This secrecy of the wild was what had her on edge. And then, as the breeze shifted, Aupaluktok caught upon a strange smell. Within moments she was made attentive to that familiar note upon the air.
Amarok. She knew it, deep in her gut.
A stirring in her deepest parts told her brought forth a simple warning: beware, and so she took to pacing upon the bank. Her pride had been worn thin, starting with that first encounter with the Wild Thing. As small as she was, there was a desire to become smaller, as if making herself insignificant would save her from the wolf's bestial nature. She did not know where the creature lurked, but in knowing he was there, somewhere, Aupa grew restless.