Whitefish River Forever Wandering

With the intruder gone from their terrain and out of sight, the Count eases his posture. His tail no longer flagged and eyes no longer sharpened. A weary, relieved sigh slowly escapes his lips. He turns towards his packmates, eyebrows pinched in concern with a concerned smile.
Is that... fish from him? I hate to waste it, but might be wise to bury it and not eat... He is unaware that it was fished from their waters, and the bear worries it has been tampered with. I'm sorry for... uhm, that. I just... with, uhm, expecting mothers it leaves a bad taste that someone would ignore our borders.
From now on I think it's best to... act first, ask questions later. They shouldn't be in here without permission.