Duck Lake renəˌsäns

Pfft. That wasn't going to stop him. Rebellious, he had no inclination whatsoever to abide the rule set by two wolves who had no meaning to him, and at the same time he had all the arrogance and recklessness to want to prove them wrong besides.

Swiftlet picked up his ice again and moved toward the herd, his eyes dancing between the sprawl of chew-toys they wore for a crown and the hundreds of pounds of meat on their bones. But, perhaps fortunately for him and Sven, the elk were in no mood to entertain two young predators. They snorted and stomped and once again put distance between them and the wolves.

He and Sven closed on them twice more to the same result, and Swiftlet grew frustrated with the soft snow hamstringing them while the elk sliced through it on their longer legs. He gave up the chase and abandoned what was left of his melting and crumbling ice block too.

Eh, whatever. I'll get them later. Swiftlet shrugged. I'm going to go find more ice. See-ya, Sven! With that, he left his former packmate unceremoniously to pursue quarry of a non-running (and non-breathing) variety.