Bearclaw Valley In dewy heads of the young, nothing will fail

She looked up when he offered to send her whatever misfits didn’t settle in well with his pack. It seemed an odd suggestion- she had seen wolves be driven from a pack, but she’d never considered sending them purposefully to another pack. A thought struck her, however, and shook a soft cackle from her. Sure. You thend uth yuh reject-th, an’ we’ll whip ‘em back into shape for yuh, She jested. 

She directed her attention back to the waters when he spoke of his father. She couldn’t help but feel bad for him- as the man was clearly one who had been not only cherished by those he knew, but charitable with his kindness as well. It didn’t seem terribly plausible that a stranger would be proud of her, but she offered him a small, but grateful smile nonetheless. 

A moment of silence, and she caught sight of a flash of silver. She splashed forward in the water, bounding a few paces just as a trout came into view. The fish darted out of sight before she could nab it. She sighed softly, and returned to the shallows.