Whitefish River A rake of claws against a mirror

The little dog runs. Fear fills Damsel's eyes. Come! Beast! Her broken common words urge him forwards, the woman lunging to pull him across the river. His small size makes it rather easy.

Of course she does not understand that to the wolf her actions may appear malicious. She does not wait before darting away with the small dog clenched in her jaws by the scruff.