Mudminnow River Bullets of silver and salt

When people are asked about their favourite smell, one can hear either quite common answers, such as flowers, or a particular brand of soap (hand cremes, shampoos, hair spray and whatever else can be found on the toiletry shelf), or especially delicious food, or... ones, which are hard to define in one word. For example, smell of baby's skin, freshly cut grass, potatoes in the basement storage area, air after a thunderstorm, wet cement, recently painted walls and so on. With this in mind, Nunataq was no different from people with her preferences being both regular and weird. And among them... stood her own brand of "poison" - fish. The smell of sweaty leather boots coming close second, were she aware of such things in the first place.

But fish... oh, god, was it an amazing thing - if she happened to find such, she became like a cat on valerian, drunk and euphoric, would she roll in the fruit that she did not get to taste often, and with sufficient fish "particles" rubbed in her coat and skin to keep away all her friends and packmates for a week or so, she would devour the prize. Here, during her thorough inspection, she had caught traces of her favourite drug and was looking for it with almost frantic intensity, when she was interrupted by someone calling to her. She looked up with a furrowed brow of a person, who does not understand, what can be SO important to disturb her. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the other for a minute and then with an air of a wolf, who is very busy now, resumed her search. The fish was (or had been) near and she was not going to give up, until she found it.