Whitebark Stream the moment you smiled at me

Apparent inexperience hinted at the victim’s youth, otherwise disguised by his muscular physique. His autumnal palette was complemented by the drip streaks of fresh blood from the gash torn into his cheek. Mack winced watching his tongue lick across the hacked flesh. 

Daring to take a half-step closer, he offered, Maybe rinsing it is a good idea. For himself, Mack preferred to follow-up the instinctual licking of wounds with fresh water each time; the stickiness of saliva matted his fur, giving him a mess to clean later if not promptly addressed. 

A frog leapt into the water, plop! Those ones don’t bite, the angler mused, teasing the stranger for his obvious misstep with the wolverine. Bending down, he lapped up a quick drink of water.