Duck Lake take it to reality

Her hunt had brought her south, after meeting the wolf in the barren land. Unfortunately, the creature's stomach continued to rumble, her pursuit of prey having failed. It was one of the only issues with being a loner in her eyes; hunting with a pack was generally much easier. Of course, losing out on food had put her in a spectacular mood, and you could tell by her posture and the mohawk of partially raised fur along her spine, a perpetual snarl twisting her features. Yeah. She was in a great mood alright. 

While it wasn't her favorite meal, the vision of a lake meant fish or fowl. Both made their homes there, so which ever was easiest for her large form to catch. The lake, if it was fresh water, would also provide something to drink, something she was bad about remembering that she needed until she was borderline dehydrated. 

But of course, there was another wolf. Another loner. Her hackles raised a fractional amount higher, gold eyes dark with suspicion. Loners rarely had any honor, and were just as bad as pack wolves when it came to snatching up her meal. It didn't help that she couldn't move as fast as other, smaller wolves, but this guy was a damn cripple. She could take him, no problem. 

Brushing by the cripple, Kroc reached the water, her head lowering so that she could lap up a drink, eyes watching for her prey. Her ears, however, swiveled to pinpoint the old man, and her eyes would cut to him should he come too close. Then again, within 100 feet was too close for the branded warrior.