Duck Lake child is slowly taken

Need food.

Even her inner voice sounded weak and thin—wasting away along with the rest of her. She was so hungry and starved that her belly didn't even ache anymore, though the fresh yearling still knew she needed to eat something, or she would soon die. Somehow, the girl had made it this far on her own, despite her severely lacking skills of the hunt. Her parents had abandoned her before she could learn, and the juvenile had spent a great deal of her life living off the scraps she could scavenge or the rare critters she managed to catch.

For a while, she even lived off the kindness of others. That was probably the main reason she was still alive, but she had left them weeks? months? ago and never looked back. It was a stupid decision, and one that Zombie couldn't really explain... but it was likely because deep down, buried in her subconscious, the girl didn't know how to exist in comfort.

Starving was the only life she had ever known.

Femur clutched tightly in her jaws, the yearling approached the lake—drawn towards it by the obnoxious calls of the ducks that gave it its name. Drawing close to the water's edge, Zombie carefully laid down the femur and placed a firm forepaw over it as she bent her head down to drink.

Paranoid Carolina...

With Rainier napping in the shade of a copse, Carolina found herself discontent with simply idling and waiting for him to finish. She removed herself from his side without so much as a sound and trod off through the trees, following the sound and smell of water. If he woke and found her gone, he would follow; he always did. She appreciated his steadfastness, even if it did grate on her sensibilities at times.

A drink sounds good. She mused in silence, cocking one ear back as she looked up at the cloudless sky, the ear soon twisting to join the other. The vigilance that dominated her actions often made it difficult for her mind to rest. Even now she was appraising the landscape, noting choke points, the angle of the terrain, and even the direction of the wind should any wolf declare themselves ambitious.

As she approached the lake, she caught wind of another female and stiffened. Her hackles bristled like a line of spines as she immediately changed her stance and took a wide path around. Uncertain if she had alerted the stranger to her presence, Carolina weighed the chances of this loner being affiliated with a pack or group. Judging from the girl's emaciated state, the odds were in Carolina's favor. Still, she made sure to approach from downwind.

Her gait was stiff, and her attention focused to a fine point as she walked up to the water's edge (a good ten yards down from the other wolf). She kept one ear, and both eyes trained on the sickly girl as she bent down to drink. Carolina lapped at the water, waiting for the other to initiate contact.

Zombie drank deep, having learned long ago that a belly full of water would ease the pains of hunger, at least for a time. While she no longer felt hunger as acutely as she once used to, the habits that the girl had practiced in her life thus far would likely last long after she had no more use for them. Now, if they did nothing to improve her survival, the routine of them provided the yearling comfort in a world that had none for her. And so, though she was not particularly thirsty, Zombie drank until her sides ached for a different reason altogether.

She only noticed the other when she lifted her head, panting slightly to catch her breath. Instinctively, the yearling bristled as a low, warning growl escaped her throat. The stranger seemed well-fed and healthy—a good indicator of a pack wolf. Zombie was not unused to this potential danger. Back off, I mean no harm, was the message laced within the starving girl's stance. She took a step backward, ready to run; she was in no state for confrontation, and knew it.

When the growl passed through the air between them, her head snaps up and she bristles. She fights the urge to give chase and demand the respect she deserve, but that neglected nerve of compassion disrupts the hot anger rolling in her veins. This stranger, whoever she was, clearly hadn't had a good time of it in her young life. Meanwhile, here she stood healthy and fit thanks to her rigorous upbringing.

It wouldn't be fair to greedily take energy from the ailing girl to cool her own irritation.

Her lips, tense from her sudden rage, relax a fraction and she glances down at the bone the emaciated female stands above. How strange... she thinks, shifting her ears back a few ticks as a show of peace. The calculating center of her brain is blaring red flags at the sudden inclination to find this girl a meal, but she stifles it.

Carolina glances towards the lake and inclines her head a fraction to the left when she returns her gaze to the female. "Hungry?"

As the growl began to fade from her throat, the other female's posture shifted slightly, and Zombie's bright eyes saw the aggression behind those subtle actions. Swiftly, she brought her head down to snatch the femur back into her jaws. Though she was seconds from bolting, something stayed her paws—exhaustion, perhaps. Or, perhaps, Zombie also saw the subtle change in the stranger's demeanor. She exhaled, hard enough to make a sound, though it was more from frustration with herself than anything. I should run. Why won't I run?

And the other spoke, the magic word. It was a word that Zombie would not allow herself to think about, for when she did... well, it caused her mouth to water nearly uncontrollably, as it began to now, in response. Eyes narrowing slightly, wary of some kind of trick, the yearling took a tentative step forward. Teeth still grasping the femur, she merely dipped her head in agreement.

Carolina heard the huff, but ignored it. Action did not follow it, and it sounded faintly like a note of resignation. Now in possession of the upper hand, Carolina felt a bit more at ease in the presence of the stranger. A smile did not appear on her face, but she did wave her tail to release the tension. She caught the presence of conflict within the sickly girl, but made no move to force herself any further into business that wasn't her own.

When she finally agreed, Carolina turned without a word and walked back into the woods. Fish, while an easy catch in the slower currents of a river, were decidedly more difficult to corner in a lake. So she opted for another idea. Rabbits would be hiding in their hovels, away from the heat, so perhaps there was a chance she could snatch one as it tried to flee.

Using her nose, and paying little heed to if Zombie was following or not, she rooted out a rabbit trail and followed it back to the centralized area. Carolina shot a look back as a clear order: stay there, wait. Whether or not Zombie heeded her command, she maneuvered around the hovel to the back exit. She began to dig, dislodging great chunks of dirt. Her strategy was simple: scare the rabbits into fleeing out the front and towards Zombie.

As the other moved away without a word, Zombie's ears went flat in disappointment—that was that, apparently. She flopped onto her side and began to chew the femur in resignation, knowing today would be another in which she would not eat. Some wolves made good on their offers, while others—like this stranger—merely teased. Still, the yearling watched with interest (though she did her very best to appear indifferent). When it became alarmingly obvious that she was wrong, that the strange female was in the process of rooting out prey, Zombie scrambled back to her feet and tried not to look to eager as she took a step forward.

It was then that the other shot her a look, the meaning clear. Stay. This time, when Zombie's ears went flat, it was out of guilt and sheepishness—instead, her posture shifted to one more submissive, like a puppy that had just been scolded. Eventually she sat, watching as the other female began to dig.

Carolina dug in silence, eyes narrowed and ears twitching at the smallest sounds of rabbits rustling deep within their tunnels. She didn't give much thought to it, but she reckoned the strange, sickly girl probably didn't understand a lick of what she was attempting to accomplish here. So instead of entrenching herself thoroughly into her niche as a flusher, she stood tense and ready for the moment a streak of tan erupted from the hole.

And as she predicted, the rabbits could not stay within their collapsing home forever. The first shot out quicker than she could react and turned abruptly into the underbrush; she waited for the next. This one was slower; probably old, but she wasn't thinking of semantics when her teeth closed around the hindquarters of the fleeing prey. It kicked at her face until she stilled it with a bite.

The grayscale female deposited the catch near where Zombie sat cowering in submission. Her pale eyes darted to the top of the girl's head, then back to the prey, before she swept her muzzle around back towards the den where the other rabbits had already fled. Though she didn't completely turn back, her eyes rolled back to Zombie. "It's all for you. Eat up." She said, in case there were any doubts.