Otter Creek regenwasser

the fisherwolf yielded mahler the kill, and the doktor's broad stance softened somewhat. the praise in the assuring voice was young, welcome; he shook water from his ruff and stepped back. "come and see." 
his own tones were gruff but affable; signalling a second time that the approach was welcome, mahler settled upon his steel-black haunches and licked the fur of his chest idly, otterblood still painting the proud ridge of his teeth.