Lone Wolf

when the  salmon began their run up the river. Then all one had to do was wade on the upstream side of a small waterfall and catch the salmon as they flipped themselves toward their spawning grounds. Dumb with their urge to mate, they were easy prey. But trout were different. Free of any compulsion to spawn at this time of year and certainly having no obsessions about swimming upstream, trout were a challenge. No matter, Faolan must learn. He had to grow fatter, bigger.
    The grizzly waited and peered into the amber water, scanning for the first flicker of a trout. She felt Faolan growing restless, and she knew he could not remain still much longer. But the fish didn't come. The pup whined a bit and wagged his head in the direction of a nearby cluster of sedges. She grunted her permission. Now she would have to keep one eye on the pup and one on the fish.
    He was happy, though. The sedges provided an endless opportunity for nosing about for grubs and beetles and ladybugs, a favorite of bears and now a favorite of Faolan. He found a nest and was soon yipping with delight.
    Faolan raised his muzzle, which was speckled with red dots. At the same moment Thunderheart glimpsed the flash of a trout. There was a loud plash as she smacked her  forepaw into the river, grabbed the trout, and slapped it on the rock. Blood spurted into the air, the droplets caught in dazzling shards of light from the sun on the horizon.
    Faolan froze. He smelled ... blood. His eyes fixed on the spinning drops glittering madly in the morning light. His heart raced, he felt a quickness in his mouth. His tongue went suddenly wet. He was stunned by a new hunger aroused deep within him, and with an overwhelming admiration for Thunderheart. He shook his head fiercely to rid himself of the annoying ladybugs and meekly walked over to her.
    Faolan lowered his head and then his entire body, flattening his ears as he flashed the whites of his eyes. Thunderheart softly woofed at him. "What are you doing?" she asked. Faolan had never appeared more wolfish, and yet she instinctively knew that he was showing her respect. But where had he learned this?
    She knew the answer. Blood. With the claw-ripped body of the fish, she had awakened Faolan's blood passion. It was the same with cubs, but never had any of her cubs behaved in quite this way. They scrambled and tussled, trying to get in for the first nip of fresh meat, shoving and pushing rudely in their clamor to try this new taste. Faolan, however, was approaching her on his belly. As if I am Ursus and no mere mother bear!
    She ripped the trout in two and dropped it in front of Faolan. But he hesitated and looked up at her with almost pleading eyes. She could see the saliva dripping from his mouth, but still he hesitated. She pushed the fish even closer to him. But Faolan only flattened himself farther and began to make small squeaking sounds. Thunderheart studied him carefully. She noticed that he stole a quick glance at the fish and then at her. Suddenly, it burst upon her: I should eat first!
    But how, she wondered, will he survive if he allows others to eat first? Was this something wolves did? Pack behavior? But he has to eat! He cannot give way to others, he will be eaten! Her mind roiled with confusion.
    She was rearing a wolf but knew only the way of bears.
    Faolan remained flattened on his belly, stealing a glance at her sometimes, but mostly rolling his eyes back as if he dared not even look at her. Finally, she gave up and bit off the tail of the fish, making sure to leave the meatiest part for the pup.
    Immediately, he pounced on what remained.
    From that moment on, she never had a more ardent student of fishing. By mid-morning, Faolan was following Thunderheart into the river to swim behind her as they examined every cranny for schooling trout. The splayed  paw served him well, and this, for Thunderheart, was perhaps the most rewarding aspect of the whole endeavor. Faolan became skillful at slapping and scooping with that odd front paw.
    By mid-afternoon both Faolan and Thunderheart were stuffed with fish. They lay on a sunny bank and traced the path of clouds across the sky. Thunderheart grunted and raised one paw to point out a cloud that looked just like the trout they had been catching. Faolan yipped with glee and immediately began scanning the cloudscape for another picture. Suddenly, he jumped up in great excitement and began to beat his tail against the ground. Two towering clouds had