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+--- Thread: Duck Lake I like driving backwards in the fog (/showthread.php?tid=51813)
I like driving backwards in the fog - Sanja - July 07, 2022
The lake was loud today. From where Sanja stood she could count clusters of ducks, a few geese, and plethora of their tiny peeping children floating upon the water.
The loudest of the birds, clusters of young mallards, kept close to their parents. The geese were in their teen stages - fat and brown and too busy plucking any food they could find off the soil.
Sanja watched them with the half-hearted desire to hunt. The peeping had given her a headache. She felt bloated despite not having eaten recently. Maybe it was the strong smell of the birds getting to her? Whatever the case, she didn't act upon her impulse yet.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Meadow - July 07, 2022
It was the feather and noises that drew her closer to investigate. Life as a rogue was never kind—of course she hungered. Her bright eyes swept over the scenario, considering the potential of a meal—would she expend more energy than worthwhile?
She continued to wander the edges of the water, sand and grit twining along to her silver underbelly and flank, perhaps a sight for sore eyes and yet uncaring. Hardened. Distant.
When her eyes fell upon the other watcher, she stilled for a moment, feeling a twitch of regret. She tried to avoid the company of others. Yet there was something distinctly intriguing about the woman before her—unbeknownst thus far to Meadow, the scent of blossoming life. Purpose.
She longed so much for a purpose.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Sanja - July 07, 2022
Sanja could be patient.
She settled to her belly and lay there upon the bank, focused upon the distant movements of the water-bound flock, and did not sense the other wolf. It was not a comfortable position for her and soon enough Sanja was rolling to one side, then another, then her antsy adjustments became a frustrated sigh. The woman gets to her feet again.
Licking her lips, she tastes something upon the air — then looks away from the birds, directly upon the burnished stranger. The woman does not want to encroach and so she stays where she's standing, dipping her head with a careful nod and airy chuff, no doubt drowned out by the birds.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Meadow - July 07, 2022
Her head canted—the other stretched to her belly. She waited a moment, considering simply leaving the woman to her peace. After all, was the silver arrow not a harbinger of abandonment? Those she held close to her would leave—those she trusted would vanish.
Placing ones self in such a precarious position again was far from appealing. Yet as the dark wolf shifted, turning, uncomfortable? Meadow’s gaze snapped back to her, one paw lifted mid-air as she meant to take action, to vanish. An act perfected when reliving it so often. But eyes found her, and while any noise drowned under the rowdy fowl, the polite nod was a vice on her heart momentarily, and she felt a quake in her chest.
She gave a small nod back, frozen in place—a deer in headlights.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Sanja - July 07, 2022
The other was frozen in place. They shared a look.
Sanja moved to motion at the flock, flashing her front fangs, licking her lips; hunt with me she was trying to convey, as the distance and the noise kept her from speaking openly. Knowing also that the wolves living her did not know her mother-tongue.
A family floated by. The slightest movement of Sanja's head was enough to urge the ducks away from the shore but the mallard chicks struggled to follow, so the father paddled closer and tried to herd them away from danger - only, they went towards the gold-touched wolf instead.
Soon they would be in range for the other wolf.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Meadow - July 07, 2022
The message was clear—having lived with the two brothers who barely spoke English for over a year, she could understand perfectly what the other suggested. Her jaw slackened for a moment, a roll of her shoulders back in an attempt to relax herself as her eyes darted to the lake.
The other made a small attempt at a family of ducks near her—yet still from reach. Her silver paws moved of their own accord—drifting into the shallows of the cool water, inhaling sharply at the feel of it against the summer heat. A family of ducklings—guided by their parents, unlike anything she had ever known and had always struggled to fulfill.
She stilled, waiting, wondering if the father duck would continue to steer them toward her. A much younger Meadow would have balked at the idea of plucking ducklings from their family—she wouldn’t have been able to stomach it.
One didn’t survive on remorse, though, and as they came closer, the father duck realized their error only a moment too late—the vicinity of the new predator. A lunge from the silver and rust wolf erupted the water to spray—jaws gaping and snapping to air, only until she grabbed something soft and amiable under hungry teeth.
It was only a taste, though, when her morsel of duckling was dropped from her jaws when sharp teeth and a bill met her ear and muzzle. A snarl, she rebounded, the flap of wings blinding her momentarily and causing her to stumble backward, losing her footing and going under the water.
When she surfaced, blinking fiercely against the water in her eyes, bewilderment settled in her chest at the father duck ushering his brood away quickly, and while her stomach gave a rumbling protest, there was something that eased her heart to know that at least one parent out there could do it right.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Sanja - July 07, 2022
When the other wolf plunged in to the water, snapping, reaching, and wild, Sanja gawked a moment and then made to lunge from her section of the bank. The father duck ushered the little ones away from the burnished wolf in time.
The family was distracted and splintered across the water. Some of the chicks had gone towards the deep center of the lake—a few peeped and clambered at the bank—still others of this immense family were being gathered by a pair of female ducks bobbing and irregular.
Sanja was in the shallows by now. She hadn't managed anything either, but at the very least some weight was off her joints. It felt good to be soaking in the cool embrace of the lake.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Meadow - July 22, 2022
A gentle chuff—her eyes now seeking the glance of the stranger before she began to wade closer to her, muzzle lifting to scent the air of the stranger. Every part of her being called for her to simply cut the interlude short, to leave. It would be better that way.
But Meadow could not continue to do what she had done most of her life, and with a few more strides, the ashen arrow began to close the distance between the two, testing the other's reaction. The ducks long forgotten for now, if the dark woman had not left yet on account of Meadow's flounder, perhaps conversation could be had.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Sanja - July 23, 2022
The ducks had fled. Sanja, too bloated to do anything except bob in place while her toes sought purchase on some wet rocks, watched them; then, the other wolf.
They drew closer. Sanja sniffed the air too, and watched their face for signs of teeth. The water tucked the stranger's golden fleece tightly against their body, and Sanja felt an intimate sort of jealousy about it.
RE: I like driving backwards in the fog - Meadow - August 23, 2022
It was a moment where each studied the other--the cold water licking beneath the plush of her fur and to her skin. There was a certain peace of the moment, and with a tilt of her copper-tipped face, the little wolf gave a curt little nod, turning away from the woman and making her way back to shore.
Engi would have spoken--initiated friendship. Likely followed the stranger home like a lost puppy, as she had so many times in the past. Something that had never worked in her favor yet.
With a forced air of indifference, Meadow reached the banks of the water, paws finding purchase to stone and grass. Unhurriedly, she would shake the water from her pelt, sparing another glance back to the dark woman in the waters. If there was no more motion in their brief interlude, the silver she-wolf would continue on her way, ignoring the pang of regret blooming in her chest and the hunger in her stomach at the lost opportunity.