The winter had been exceptionally snow-heavy, and the spring looked to be very wet and warm. Already the snow was melting and the rivers rising. This normally would not concern Totoma, until she noticed a small crop of land in the center of the river. It was vanishing quickly into the rising waters. Stranded in the center of the island, on what was laughably the highest point of the island, was an eaglehound. Odd to see one so high in the mountains.
And a shame.
Totoma knew well of their hunting prowess, and the thought of taming one, or, perhaps more accurately, being in a mutually beneficial relationship, was an appealing notion.
Time was running out. If the eaglehound tried to swim to the banks, the cold and current would steal its energy in seconds. That decided it for Totoma. She turned her back only long enough to find a sturdy, old tree; one that reached halfway to the sky. With a bit of a start, she rammed her bony head plate into the tree. There was a groan of roots, and she threw all her weight into the tree. After a second, the roots began to give, and moments later, the tree splashed down into the water. Now it was up to the dog. She stared at it, it stared back. The felled tree shifted slightly with the rush of water.
The eaglehound sprang into action and charged over the log, and ran at the one who knocks down trees. Fangs bared, it went for her throat, only to be met with the bony hard skull-plate that had aided in saving it's life. "There will be none of that."