Duck Lake You realize that tinned food is just for crackheads and wars?

Panic gripped him like a vise; his vision blurred as adrenaline pumped madly through his veins. He was on his toes, doing a sort of dance to escape the mad woman. All seemed well—

and then he felt the sting of teeth upon a hind leg, a sharp burst of pain.

Luckily, that blow had sent her headlong into snow, her motion stymied. Pygmalion took that opportunity to break free from her insidious presence, sending cold, muddy water in a spray around him as he fled. He ran until he could not run any longer, and even then, he did a kind of fast-walk.

Once he felt himself safe (he might as well have been on a different planet) Pyg fell to the frozen ground in a heap, gasping for air, wondering what in hell had just happened.