Alpine Lake alligator

The comment seemed to perplex the stranger. Perhaps she hadn’t realized how she’d appeared, lurking in the water like that. In any case, her hesitant use of the words “your lake” immediately elicited a reaction from Towhee.

It’s not ours. We’re just exploring, she said, glancing at Skipjack, who stood very still and listened closely. We live in the copse south of here, past the foot of the waterfall. I’m Towhee and that’s my grandson, Skipjack.

She looked at him again, saw his lips form a polite, “Hello.” He added nothing further, which wasn’t unusual. Skip tended to be quite withdrawn around those he didn’t know. Towhee wondered if he would come out of his shell during his upcoming travels, when surely he would cross paths with many a new face.

Her orange eyes didn’t linger on him long, flicking back to the drab, slightly pudgy she-wolf. Their eyes connected for a beat and Towhee saw they were much more striking than the rest of her. Wondering if that was an uncharitable thought, she broke eye contact but didn’t let her gaze wander far as she awaited an introduction.