Frito whined and hopped up and down in place – barely able to contain his excitement – as he watched Dragonfly’s pointed little teeth sink into the shiny, speckled trout. The thrashing fish threw her head from side to side, but she reacted perfectly by taking it to drier ground and slamming it against the rocks. Her instincts were golden, and Frito couldn’t be more thrilled. There was absolutely nothing in this world that he enjoyed more than hunting… for fish!

A playful yelp, ”Atta girl, Fly,” accompanied his spastic approach. Like a wily puppy he threw himself to her side and gave her a congratulatory bump on the shoulder. From behind his noisy panting and lolling pink tongue was a wide, white smile. A tingling anticipation grew within him as he was also about to be privy to Dragonfly’s first taste of trout. Oh once that flaky, buttery taste hit her lips she would be hooked – literally! Frito then turned his attention from the fresh catch to Dragonfly. He tried to read her expression and body language. In a way, he relived his first catch through hers.

He was rapidly pulled from his reminiscing, however, by a whoosh of air and a sharp clack. He whirled around, only to see Dragonfly’s silvery trophy locked inside the talons of a retreating eagle. With wide eyes and a dropped jaw, he turned back to Dragonfly… then back to the flapping thief. As he screamed, ”NO! NO! NOOO!” he took off after the soaring bird. As he ran, he stared unblinkingly at the silver beacon and called back to Dragonfly, ”C’mon, Fly!” They would get that fish back. No matter what. He would climb a tree if he had to.