Mudminnow River It's a good thing I like fish

Grezig watched impassively as the male proceeded to eat a part of his own vomit. Some part of her was disgusted, but dogs and wolves often consumed their vomit, so it wasn’t a sight that bothered her too much. The fact that he’d thrown up in the first place bothered her more. Perhaps it was nothing, but he could be sick, and she could not afford to catch whatever physical illness he might have. And, again, he’d thought that a tree was talking to him, so there was that.

He spoke to her after a leisurely stretch, asking if she liked fish. “I suppose so,” she replied. Grezig did not often eat fish. She was used to mammals, mostly, small or large. She was not very good at fishing, so she didn’t try very often. She watched him for a moment, coming to a decision in her head. He seemed a bit daft, but harmless enough, and they needed the numbers more than anything. If he could fish, he was at least good for something. (She did not know that he had taken the fish from the fox she had passed earlier, and assumed that he had caught it himself).

“Are you part of a pack?” she asked, in her usual semi-demanding tone. After a second, she realized she hadn’t even introduced herself yet and backed up a bit. “My name is Grezig. I'm helping to make a pack. You should join us if you're looking." It wasn't the best introduction, but that was how Grezig normally was -- pretty much monosyllabic.