It was a frigid day; the air was too crisp and fresh to stay cooped up, however, and Wayne McCoy had been glad to leave the static pack lands and run out into the surrounding forest. He’d heard of a nice river that ran through Ethereal Eclipse, and so he’d brought some rope and one of the baskets that Dixie had so lovingly crafted. He was craving some fish…and hopefully it would be easy to catch them, if he was lucky. He was sure to bring back a few extra for the pack after he’d gotten something in his empty stomach, but right now he had to find the river he’d heard whispering his last time loping through these lands.

Wayne began to regret not riding Fern out here, as she could help him carry more supplies, but then again, the large mare would have a hard time navigating through the thick undergrowth, and who knew what feral animals lurked in the neutral territories. While it would have been nice to have saddle bags for his things, it would not be worth it to get thrown from the large mare and break his arm. Some use he’d be to the pack then.

Whistling a tune as he picked his way carefully through the thick trees, glad at least that the fallen leaves allowed light to filter down from above, the Labrador cross finally found the river. Brown eyes quickly scanned the area before he found a tree with a thick branch sticking out over the river. Grinning, he tied the end of the rope to the basket and shimmied up the tree.

“I miss fishin’ for channel cat,” Wayne said to himself as he scooted out on the branch, glancing down into the water. “Too cold to jump in, though.” He lowered the basket down on the rope into the water, glad that it was somewhat clear. He was sure that a fish would swim into the basket, and if he felt any weight, he could pull it right out of the water. It wasn’t particularly simple, but he didn’t want to risk scaring them away or wading into the fast current, even if he was a very strong swimmer. Dixie had more elaborate traps back home, but the basket he’d taken had been one of her earliest ones, not quite as sturdy as the others; that was why he’d known that she wouldn’t miss it. Or at least he hoped—a fish might soften her up if she did get mad.

Thankfully, someone was looking out for him; the rope wiggled with the weight of a fish bumping into the basket, and he pulled. He was glad to see a few wriggling inside, small but more than a mouthful when put together. They swam around in the slowly draining basket, and he ate some raw before lowering the basket back into the water again. Hopefully a larger one would come along; that one he would clean and take the time to cook.

The sound of several small animals running through the undergrowth made Wayne straighten, sitting on the tree branch and pricking his ears. He adjusted his cowboy hat quickly and tightened his grip on the rope, looking down into the near-winter-sparse foliage to see what had caused the miniature stampede. If there was a large animal like a grizzly nearby, he’d probably have to scram, fish or no fish. The last thing he wanted to do was compete with a large predator over his catch. Prepared to leap down from the tree if need be, he waited—and chuckled under his breath when instead he saw a small coyote hybrid pad out from the bushes.

The auburn-haired woman asked him what he was doing, and with a slight grin, he pulled on the rope. The basket came up, dripping water, and he hauled it up to the tree before grabbing it and splashing the water out on the ground. One smallish fish flopped onto the forest floor, soon followed by the Labrador mix as he jumped down from the tree too.

“Fishin’,” Wayne answered. “Ain’t the most conventional way, but you don’t know if somethin’ works unless you try it, right?” He began to coil the rope, not wanting to rudely keep on fishing if the stranger wanted to chat. While he wasn’t as good with meeting new people as talkative and outgoing Dixie-May was, he had been raised to be polite enough.

“Name’s Wayne McCoy,” he went on, tipping his hat. “From Casa di Cavalieri. What’s your name?” He paused, sniffed. “And why do ya smell like dead cat?”

The woman grinned, mentioning that she had been trying to mask her scent before introducing herself as Terra. Wayne returned the smile and nodded slightly. “Might not be useful for huntin’, as you’d scare off all the critters, but I suppose it’s a good way to keep any luperci from recognizing your scent,” he murmured, and his brown eyes looked her over thoughtfully, smile fading. Why would she need to cover up her smell? He tried to keep himself from premature judgment, shaking his head before something else occurred to him.

“Assumin’ you found a dead cougar—is it still around here?” the wolfdog asked, already taking an experimental sniff though the reek of her and the fresh fish overwhelmed anything else. He remembered the mountain lion that Gypsy and Duke had stomped to death, the one whose pelt was being used as a canvas. He wouldn’t mind getting another skin without all the trouble, and if it was too rotted for that, he might still be able to find other uses. While traveling with his parents and with Dixie, he’d had to make use of a lot of unconventional resources.

Auburn hair falling over her shoulder, the woman crept up to the basket and looked through it, giggling. He smirked slightly, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and watching her until she had finished whatever he’d been trying to accomplish. He was used to bouncy girls and didn’t mind the seemingly pointless actions they went through; Dixie-May often had ideas out of nowhere or would do things just for the sake of keeping busy.

At her comments and playful wink, his shoulders shook with a soft but deep chuckle. “I’d appreciate that,” Wayne teased, pinching his nose. “Good place to decide to have a bath, though.” Looking at the water and deciding this would be as good at time as any to mess around and make a friend, he offered, “I can swim with you if we find a spot where the current isn’t so strong. Don’t want either one of us gettin’ washed away.”

Terra shrugged at his question, explaining that the cougar was useless before grinning as she remarked on its death. The male looked her smallish body over and whistled. “You killed it?” He shook his head then looked back to where he’d first seen her running from. “Any pelt left, you think? Or bones?” He grinned. “Sure you don’t want to keep a fang as a prize for your efforts?” He definitely would have wanted to in his teenage years, along with flaunting his token, but his parents had lovingly beaten such obnoxious behavior out of him. They’d raised him right, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t joke about it with this girl.

The hybrid woman walked along the water’s edge, looking around for a good place to swim, and remarked that the cougar hadn’t been the best cover. He chuckled more softly this time and began coiling the rope. He took off his hat and placed it on top of the basket so that no critters would get to it—even though any animal that actually did smell the fish would be able to get to it easily. He frowned before climbing back up into the tree with the basket, setting it down in a crook among the branches so that it was less vulnerable to predators.

Meanwhile, Terra had found a spot. Her auburn hair billowed out around her as she stood in the river, and he nodded before clambering back down from the tree. He shrugged his torn jeans off, depositing them carelessly on the bank along with the knife he was going to use to clean the fish.

Now that he didn’t have to worry about soaked clothes, Wayne ran and leaped ungracefully into the water with a laugh. However, he seemed perfectly suited to the river once he was in it, with his slightly webbed toes and fingers. Water ran off his coarse dusty fur like—well, water off a duck’s back. He smiled in contentment, even if the water was a little bit chilly; it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“You from ’round these parts?” Wayne asked casually, his feet finding the riverbed again. He stretched.

Terra gestured to a scar she’d gotten from the cougar, and Wayne whistled again. “Musta been hungry, eh?” he asked, referring to both the mountain lion and the coywolf for braving the animal for a deer. Of course, he wasn’t considering that it was a rash action; he thought too logically to imagine others provoking large predators for the fun of it. That didn’t necessarily mean that he didn’t get a thrill from adrenaline rushes, just that he didn’t seek them out.

He cocked his head as she mentioned coming from the west. Did she mean the southwest part of the peninsula, or the western half of North America? Anything would have sounded reasonable for him, a mutt born in New Mexico who’d roamed over half the continent.

Enjoying the feel of the water, Wayne dunked his head under. When he resurfaced, however, the cinnamon-furred girl was clambering out of the water, explaining that she needed to eat. Frowning, he called, “Stay for fish?” but she had already snuck out into the woods. The man shrugged to himself and continued to relax in the water.

A sizable fish snaked by his legs at one point, and he spent some time wrestling it to the bank. It wasn’t a monster by any means, but it would be a nice meal before went back to fishing. Shaking the water from his tail, he gathered his jeans and put them on before reaching for his knife—

Wayne blinked. Where’d I leave that damn thing? He swung around, clueless, brown eyes picking out the shapes of the twigs and leaves and not much else. He couldn’t imagine leaving it up in the tree with the basket and rope, but he double-checked anyway.

Double-checked, and realized he’d been duped.

Hands clenched into fists, and Wayne let a snarl out in the direction of the trees, though he wasn’t so violent a man that he’d go after the thief. He was mostly frustrated, and somewhat grateful that it hadn’t been the basket that had been stolen.

Resigned, the cowboy put his hat back on and gathered his things, making the lonely trek back to Casa.