Whitefish River Impede

 

@Black Hat & @Aningan

It was midmorning, and the river bubbled, carrying sheets of ice along its surface while flakes fell all around. It was quiet, even serene if one didn't mind the chill. Not a soul stirred by the riverbed.

The tranquility was shattered by sharp hooves that pounded against the ground and kicked up snow in violent clouds behind the frenzied fleeing elk. The source of the herd's distress was hot on their heels, a silver streak with rippling muscles and a ruby thousand-yard stare. Unwavering was the lioness' gaze on her target as she gained on some unfortunate yearling. Within heartbeats, they both went tumbling down in a plume of powdered snow and stained the pristine white ice with the fawn's crimson lifeblood. But the elk did not yield; they headed straight for the river's shallows to put as much distance between themselves and the steelclad killer as their bodies could stand.

Sparx

Never did he stray far from his home, uncertain how far was too far and not too keen on the idea of testing boundaries; he knew he should reach further, seek out those that may be nearest to them, but he could not yet bring himself to do so. Rather, he stuck to those few lands that were hardly any lengths away when he wished to go out and stretch his legs, the river slowly turning into a favourite. But today the river was alive, less docile than it usually appeared to be—thundering steps echoed through the flatland, the earth shaking underfoot. He thought it to be another quake at first, a straggler disrupting them months after the others ceased, but his eyes soon disproved his suspicions.

A herd; large, hoofed beasts—larger even than the deer he was accustomed to, the marks they drove into the ground underfoot too great to match the ones he recalled seeing before. He thought to call the pack, to seize this opportunity—but they were driven by fear, and a fearful beast was dangerous; a feeling, blooming from the depths of his very soul, quelled his desires and shot a dose of reason through his veins.

He would not risk the lives of those he felt so fondly of for a single meal.

Aningan hunkered down where he stood, far enough from the stampede so as to avoid being trampled but near enough to watch them go. Focus set on the elk, he remained oblivious to the creator of their fear and the slaughtered calf that remained shielded by distance.

He continued his journey due north, following the winding river. Nose to the ground, he found signs of a pack long gone that shared scents with the plains pack southwest from here. They must've moved for whatever reason. He stopped by a shallow stretch of the river and peered into the water, focusing on his reflection before a sleek blur beneath the surface caught his eye. Black Hat had never fished before, but there was no time like the present; besides, he couldn't afford to be picky. Tensing, he lowered his crown as mismatched eyes honed in on a target. He pounced, splashing into the frigid water nose-first. Pulling back empty-handed, he shook himself with a shiver. That sure woke him up, he thought bitterly.

His ears swiveled on their own accord as they detected a distant rumbling that grew less distant with each passing second. He whirled around to face it and went moon-eyed at what he saw: a colossal elk herd on course to trample him to a pulp. There wasn't enough time to flee. His eyes darted frantically in search of high ground, heart pumping adrenaline through his veins as it pounded like a war drum against his sternum. He caught a twisted tree in his sights and bolted for it, leaping up its branches to safety as the ungulates sped by. Collapsing on a sturdy limb, he sucked air into his lungs and watched as they crossed the river with clamorous splashes.

An eternity passed before the last stragglers finally crossed. By then, his legs had stopped quaking. Black Hat rose and squinted as he narrowly noticed a white figure lying in the snow. It was on the other side of the stampede, which led him to believe it was a victim he could scavenge from. Leaping down, he trotted up to it and was disappointed upon realizing the wolf was alive and hale. He was a massive young man, would've made a decent meal. Shame. But he was already here, and so to prevent awkwardly veering away upon realizing he wasn't dead, Black Hat continued to approach.

I thought you'd been flattened by those elk. I nearly was, He said rather conversationally for a man who just escaped death.

Understanding on an instinctual level the dangers of a fear-driven herd, the bear’s fiery gaze was the only part of him to trail after them. He kept away, distance remaining between himself and them, and low to the earth; a wintry mound to become one with the snow, hidden—until he could hide no more, the herd gone and another wolf approaching. A voice came with him, words directed towards the young leader, and he knew he could remain hunkered down no longer. Slowly, he rose back up to his feet, shaking his coat free of any clinging, frosted clumps.

“I didn’t get close enough to be in their way,” he responded. “I saw them and stopped—I heard them first, actually.” The sound of the stampede was enough to keep him from approaching, whereas the sight of it encouraged him to take extra precautions; there was something about it all that screamed danger from a part of his mind he was unaware existed up until that very moment.

“Are you okay?” the bear asked next, curious. He couldn’t see any signs of injury, nothing obvious, but that didn’t always mean there was nothing there.

He listened to the young man with feigned interest until he asked of his well-being. Oh yes, quite fine. Awake now if I wasn't before, Black Hat jested. You have a pack, He observed, having scented many others on his white pelt. Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Black Hat.