"Ah." Fraser glances down at the trap again, then crouches, studying the snow around it. "That's strange."

There's nothing wrong with the trap that he can see, and while the signs of rabbits nearby aren't fresh, they aren't three days old, either. Just bad luck, he supposes, getting up and dusting the snow off the knees of his jeans before stepping toward the other man, hand outstretched. "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

There's something strangely familiar about the other fellow's face, but he can't quite place it. Diefenbaker trots towards the man, tail and ears both up. "And this is Diefenbaker."