Big Salmon Lake i think god is moving it's tongue,

Little Needle followed the wolf from the evergreens in a practiced stalk. She kept her distance, always staying out of sight, always aware of any shifts in the wind. She followed only the man’s trail, careful to never lay eyes on him after he had left his pack territory; because to see him was to be seen herself, and being caught would ruin her game.

The leaders of the forest wolves kept Stark hostage (read: in recovery) but she didn’t know who was responsible, and they were all at fault in her eyes. She was bitter towards any wolf carrying the forest’s pungent scents.

Needle willed herself the resolve to interrogate this wolf, but when she caught up to him, he was only drinking, appearing as tranquil as the landscape itself. Did he deserve to have his peace disturbed? Her mouth slanted (:/).

Of course he did. Filthy forest wolf.

Hey you! she shouted, emboldened by the distance he had put between himself and his pack. The other creatures gathered scattered at the sound of her traveling voice. I’ve got questions and you’re gonna answer. She marched down the slope towards the bank of the lake, sure to keep enough space between them that she could bolt at a moment’s notice without first catching his teeth.