Whitefish River between two points

It was the clattering behind him that first cued him into the knowledge that he was in fact, not alone. Initially Mordecai paid it little mind, interested in the newest of smells he was acquiring, but the splashing that started to follow it was too irresistible. The fact that someone was trying to cross the river behind him was hard to ignore when there was even less doubt that he had been seen in the very area moments before. Lifting his head from the ground as he turned fluidly, he caught sight of the dark-haired canine only moments before his awkward avoidance to collision. The stranger backpedaled if only for a moment, then lost his balance and came crashing down where the water met the muddy, rocky ground.

Mordecai did not hear the distinct pop that the other felt, and even if he had the amusement he found would have played out the same. For such a spindly creature, the well-build Ostrega couldn't have blamed him for being leery of caught out in the open. He might have been flighty and very much like a cat on the prowl of mice, Mordecai closed the distance with a forming smirk. If this was the dash of dark he had seen in his periphery not five minutes ago (and he assumed it was), then he was quite amused. “That's what you get,” he told the younger wolf as he looked him over from a distance. He wouldn't get too close, noting the gritted teeth. “Are you all right though? That looked as nasty as it probably feels.” Wet stones were worse than ice in his eyes, and over the previous winters he had his own share of slips on them.