Whitebark Stream whitefang

The day was unusually calm, free from storm with the occasional peek of sun from behind snow-stuffed cloud. An otter emerged from the stream, sleek and wet with a plump fish clasped between its paws. Amidst the crunch of fishbones, Winter held its breath.

It was then that the otter startled, its nose twitching once, twice, before it scarpered in a flurry of squeaks. The fish lay abandoned on the riverbank.

A low huff followed as the bear swiftly claimed her prize. Fish scales sparkled as she sank to her belly and ate, pausing only to return a sliver of meat to the stream. Her tail thumped, disturbing the snow; where one fish was there were surely more.

He followed the ravens to Whitebark Stream. His scavenger heart fell when he saw the woman they led him to.

She was a bear of a wolf, and her ruddy fur glowed in the brief etchings of sunlight that dared peek through the clouds, as though even they were afraid of her.

He should go - but a glance at his ravens, and he saw them all watching. They never had words for him, but they always led him to food.

But really? Here? Now?

A sigh. Whatever. He slid from the cover of birch and aspen and made himself very small. He still had an edge of puphood about him, and he let his movements show it.

Thin, hungry Vaska. He whined, big eyes resting on the fisherwoman.

The ravens called and the ravens came; the bear let them be for now. She payed them little mind as she ate her fill.

And yet there was something else there, behind the ever-present cawing and careful glares, the snapping of twigs and the rustle of snow that was very much not-raven. Mishka's ear twitched. A whine and the bear was suddenly alert, hackles beginning to raise as she turned her head. The Great Bear and her cubs slumbered, surely, and the otter had scarpered. So what was it?

A shape so small and low and white, she was sure the snow itself had grown legs. It drew closer and the bear let herself soften slightly. A wolf, a young one, gazed up at her pleadingly.

"Little one," she rumbled softly, "A meal is enjoyed better with company, no?" She was hesitant at first, but her stomach was full and there was little point in making enemies while Winter ruled. Should the wolf approach further, she would shift her body to allow him what was left of the fish.

He stared at her with bright eyes, wide and untrusting. He saw how she bristled. One foul step and he could be as much of a meal as that fish between her paws -

But he had learned the intricacies of nuance, of knowing how to see, in the slightest gesture, the turning thoughts of another wolf's mind. The gentler ones, anyways. There were some who never let their composures break. This wolf was not one of them. He saw this, in the softening of her face.

She spoke kindly to him, and Vaska, having kept such voiceless company in recent days, merely took a tender step forward, as though uncertain, before he scuttled forward, hunched over and eager to have a small fill of the kill she offered.

The taste overwhelmed him! So much better than the carrion. And he gulped back one, two bites - but ate so fast it came back up again. Unfazed, he ate this, too, side-eyeing the big wolf and watching for any signs he had taken more than she'd intended to give.

From her spot in the snow, the little bear wordlessly observed her new companion as he seemed to listen and approach. The more she stared, the more ghost-like the boy became. She wondered wistfully if his world was bathed in the same red light as his eyes. Daring not to make any sudden moves for fear of him vanishing back into the snow, Mishka wagged her tail slightly and took a step back as he stepped forward.

She was relieved when he finally began to tuck into her leftovers, though it soon reappeared - poor thing! A whine escaped her throat, was it a bad fish? It certainly hadn't tasted rotten to her, but who knows...catching his gaze, she opened her mouth to speak gently again. "It is okay, I get you another." Perhaps this time it would stay in his belly. Though she did not expect a reply, her first words to him had seemed to be understood, and so she would update him if only to make him a little more at ease with her movements.

Keeping her distance still, she trotted back to the river bank and got to work.