Whitebark Stream i don't know where i'm going but i just keep moving on

"ishmira." the girl beams, a crooked grin snaking across her face. if this woman is blackfell's, it will serve her well to earn the lady's favor. she drops again to her belly, lengthy fur brushing the thick ferns at the river's edge. the white wolf creeps forward, each step calculated. with the older woman's guidance she appears more sure of herself, calm.

she lays very still, hardly daring to blink as silver shapes whirl past. then she loves in a flash, one dainty paw darting beneath the surface. she dumps the writhing silver creature upon the bank, stilling it with a bite, and turns to her teacher expectantly.