Duck Lake I tell you that I'm thinking about,

Cole sensed her presence before he saw her, the faint sound of her breath threading through the still morning air. Rising slowly from his crouch, he turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse of her—a pale figure blending into the frost-laced dawn, delicate as a snow-kissed dove against the dark line of the trees.

She smelled like the wild, unclaimed by any pack, her scent mingling with the crispness of the lake air. His gaze lingered, warm and steady, taking her in with a quiet curiosity. No sense in startling her, he thought.

With a slight dip of his head, he broke the silence, his voice a gentle rumble.

Mornin', he greeted, respectful yet open, a hint of a southern drawl threading through the word. He let a small, polite smile cross his muzzle, gesturing to himself. Name’s Cole.

He paused, watching her reaction with interest, his stance easy and unthreatening, as if to say she was welcome here—for now.