Duck Lake You're qualified to fix a chair.

Even in her dream like state, she was adaptly aware of the wolf moving behind her. Who it was-- she could no place the scent. Instead, she waited. Perhaps the stranger would simply leave her, since the opportunity to attack had long since past. A shudder of breath released from her mouth as a gust of cold wind swept across the pond, hitting her directly in the face with a gust of snow straight of the frozen surface.

Surely, that would have given her status away, but she wasn't sure. She waited, her senses wide awake for another indication that the wolf would move further. Maybe it was time for another Blackfeather captive. The last one was presumed dead, or had died running away. She wasn't sure. Not that she cared, but leverage was always a good thing.