Bull River

The master of his own domain, dunking his head on a late summer evening, coming up with half the river on him. He found me through the willow before I had the first idea he was anywhere near. They move through that scrub like smoke, for reasons that make no sense until you have watched one do it. Uncertain of one another, we danced the dance that beasts dance. Wary were we both as he came on. So I took myself out of it, and let him go back to finding what he had come for.