Otter Creek On the colorful flowers grown upon the dust and moss

@Koda

As daybreak sprung over the flatlands the world was rocked into a gentle sweep of amber. Birds chirped overhead and the soft hush of trees whispered in the wind. Spring was inevitable and the creek was alive with new and brimming life. And then there was Pallas, hunkered down in the marsh to take advantage of it.

She had found a new scent, this time of otter -- and in the early morning fog had spotted them frolicking in the water. Their tails kicked up little ripples and white-water froth seemed to foam where they played. They were too far out for her to dream of catching, so instead she watched them with hunger threading her gaze.

A tiny songbird burst into a fit of chirps and trills, proudly proclaiming his ownership of this particular tree in which he was perched, and inviting all females in range to chill at his sweet bird pad. Ah spring. The gray wolf sleeping under the shelter of it's branches grunted and put his paws over his ears, trying to muffle the noise. Nearby, a second song floated into the air, claiming his tree was better and all the girls should come flocking to him, and before long the air was polluted with the voices of songbirds desperately trying to one up each other and get laid. Koda growled and pulled himself to his feet, muttering under his breath as he stalked off to the creek for a morning drink.

Still not fully awake, Koda stumbled over to a tree stump and raised a leg to relieve himself. It was then that he noticed Pallas on the bank. "Oh...um...hey there."

LMAO your description of the birds haha

Pallas' ears pulled back sharply at the sound of a crash: she turned from the otters and captured the sight of a wolf who was, presently, caught mid-duty. She stared at him for a moment pointedly before she recognized him: the muskrat fellow. Well, this wasn't awkward. She craned her neck to view him better, though the rest of her body was still facing the river. Awkward, part deux. "Hi." was the curt, disappointing reply.

His business concluded, Koda shook out his fur and staggered over to the creek to get a refill. Embarassed, he avoided eye contact with the she-wolf and intently watched the otters at play. "Nice morining, huh," he said, hoping a little conversation would make her forget what she saw.

Pallas wouldn't forget - not because it was a magnificent sight to behold, but because it was something in which to hold against him. The hag shifted her elbows as he walked past her, dipping his muzzle into the water to slake his thirst. She didn't overlook that he pursued a conversation in favor of disrupting the awkwardness between them. "It's alright." Pallas said with a sigh, letting her gaze trail out to the otters. "Would be better with breakfast."

Breakfast. The word made something click in Koda's head. "That reminds me," he said, suddenly very awake. "You remember your little friend from the other day? Well I found his little rat hole and rigged a trap for him," he explained to the she-wolf. "Wanna go see if we got him?"

A trap? Pallas' head tilted to the side - she had no earthly idea how one fashioned a trap for something as slippery as a muskrat. But she was intrigued. She rose stiffly, obliging his invitation with a dip of her muzzle: "Sure, let's see it." At the very least, she wanted to see what type of machination Koda had devised in which to trap what was arguably the most succulent of all the prey animals.

"This way," he said, turning to lead the way to the site of his trap. Koda wasn't exactly Wile E. Coyote, but he'd had moderate success with catching small game in his traps. They were pretty easy to do, just prop up something big and heavy with a stick and wait for your prey to come traipsing along and bump into it. It wasn't foolproof, but it worked.

As he padded through the undergrowth, he glanced back at the she-wolf on his tail. "Um, by the way..I don't think I ever got your name."

Pallas followed behind him, ruled mostly by her desire to eat. She wanted to learn more about this trap, and as they walked her curiosity grew. They moved quietly together in the undergrowth until he piped up, propping her with an inquiry she hadn't considered. A name. Names were unimportant to her (as were manners, apparently) so it hadn't occurred to her to ask. "Pallas. You? What's this trap nonsense?"

"Koda," he returned. "My grandfather taught me. Nothin' to it, really," he explained. 'I sure hope it worked,' he said to himself. He couldn't bear a second embarrassment that same morning.

They reached the marshy reeds where the muskrat made it's nest, and Koda noticed right away that his dead fall trap had been triggered. A pair of webbed feet and a long scaly tail were sticking out from underneath the log he'd used to deliver the killing blow. "Got 'im," he said proudly, rolling the log off so he could retrieve his catch. He dropped it in front of Pallas. "He's a little flat, but still good."

As the slowed to a walk Pallas allowed her gaze to trail towards what appeared to be a log, set askance. Beneath it, the unmistakable curl of a tail poked, complete with little crushed web feet. Genius. Pallas watched as Koda extracted the animal: it certainly was a grisly sight to behold. "How often does that work?" Pallas shot, eyeing the dismantled contraption in a way that suggested she was trying to wrap her mind around it. Maybe she wasn't as clever as she thought, but she sure as hell wasn't about to admit it. A sniff of the pancake-rat yielded that it was indeed the same muskrat, and hungrily (and rudely!) Pallas fell upon it with wild gobbles.

His brow furrowed in thought. "I'd say it works more often than not," he answered. He didn't have the exact statistics figured out, all he cared was it worked good enough for him. "It works better for some critters than others," he added. Small furry things were usually the intended targets for the dead-fall trap, it probably wouldn't work on anything bigger than a beaver. "You'd need a pretty big log to catch a bear with one of these."

He'd intended to share his catch with her anyway, but Pallas was already helping herself. "Save some for the rest of us," he said as he took the tail in his teeth and tried to pull the food away before she devoured the whole thing.

Cool avatar! Wrapping up because It seems you're inactive, but I am game for a thread some other time

As Pallas consumed her fill, it appeared Koda objected (and for good reason). He reached for the tail and instinctively Pallas felt herself issue a roaring outburst: her white fur flared and her yellow teeth were suddenly exposed, her tail high and lips curled. She blinked and retracted, surprised by the tenacity of her instinct. With one last swallow she pushed the remains of the thing away, avoiding Koda's gaze as if ashamed of her actions. After all, it had been he who had provided the meal. Somberly she licked her lips and stared at the fallen contraption, studying the disturbed blades of grass that lead up to the muskrat's location of death.

Having ate her fill Pallas circled the entrapment and studied it. It would be useful for later. Abruptly she rose and dipped her head in farewell and made her way down the lonely and desolate trail.