Duck Lake what do you see

My pleasure!

Electricity shot down his spine as she caught him in her frigid stare, but, with some effort, he managed to keep his hackles smoothed down and an impassive expression on his face. She looked smallish, since she was half submerged and some distance away, but her face was hard as stone and appeared etched with little scars. As she studied him, he felt almost naked and exposed, as if he stood on barren tundra beneath the eye of the sun.

Despite this, his lips tugged up into a tiny grin, and his eyes softened. Perhaps loneliness made him foolhardy. Or perhaps her frank reply revealed yet another mystery—a fiery passion locked inside that icy exterior. Who else but a romantic would waste precious energy running from herself?

"Looks like you still have some running to do, then," he replied, deadpan.

But a heartbeat later, Goldry fixed her with a flinty stare, and the tone of his voice grew forbidding. "Just don't go any further south. That's my only warning."

Alo and her kindness, her principles of generosity and selflessness, the virtuous path of her god; Goldry saw these as benign curiosities—beautiful concepts of uncertain value. There was real value in coercion, and in the strength of his body and the power of his bite. He was obligated to protect Ookaan by any means necessary, against all threats, both great and small. Even a lone wolf could kill a pack mate, and although she seemed uninterested in his meadow, he had to be sure.