Whitefish River running through the parking lot, he chased me and he wouldn't stop

She would have answered, if they were both mind readers, that yes, he had been called that at times. Wit the blackest fur she had ever saw—at times on their mountain and angle, he would blot out the sun. 

But that neither here nor there. 

He studied her, and instead of a simple reply, he gave a rather large explanation, right down to what some certain herbs did. 

An educational moment at its finest, she thought bitterly, as she begun to shiver from the frigid winter air and her wet fur. Surely, she had entered hell. It wasn’t filled with lava—it was where winter stayed an eternity, and she remained to be punished for her poor life choices. 

Swell, she chattered back, her tone almost biting as she regretted her choice to submerge in the and pacing away from the man, she made a poor attempt to shake some of the water from her pelt, wincing at her side as she did so.

Of course, her ire shouldn’t have been directed to the stranger. Sorry. I’m not the best company.