Bitterroot Valley not too far, or you'll be drowned

He had expected to be rebuffed, insulted - chastised for making demands of a stranger. Glared at, at least. Miska was quite handsome wolf, but there was something uneasy about his presence. His wolfish grin had a shark's teeth.

"Perełka, no, this is crime," he insisted when the pale beauty introduced herself instead. "El-o-wyn must sing for Miska." He took a heavy step over the  invisible line that demarcated her personal space from his, and looked down at her expectantly.