Whitefish River serendipity

Seal, Frolic whispered, her voice lost to the roar of the river.

But Seal’s cry reached her ears. Mindless as a sailor hearkening to a siren’s song, Frolic began wading across the river. When the water became too deep to touch the bottom, she began kicking her legs. Fortunately, she was a strong swimmer. The current swept her downstream, though her blackened snout remained always pointed at her friend.

She clambered ashore a little ways downriver, not even bothering to shake herself before she began running toward Seal on slightly quivery legs. Water poured off her skinny frame as she raced to close the distance, so unbelievably happy to see her friend after all this time.

Frolic wanted to fling herself at Seal, pull her into a hug. It wasn’t her soaking wet pelt that stopped her but an overwhelming sense of guilt. And she didn’t want to touch her friend with her filthy paws. There was blood on them. Maybe it wasn’t visible. But it was there.

Told you I’d be back, she said a little breathlessly, managing a smile as she hovered a foot away.