Lake Rodney There is room in my lap

Having made himself at home in this new land, Corvus laid at the base of a tall fir tree. The hare he'd managed to snag kept his hunger at bay, for now, and he wasn't keen on wasting energy. He enjoyed the dim lighting, always preferring it to the harshness of daylight. The dew on the grass cooled his stomach, and he found himself beginning to doze off, head lowering to rest between two large black paws.

As his eyes were fluttering closed, though, he spotted the figure of what must have been a wolf approaching the lake through the fog. His eyes shot open to assess the individual. He immediately gauged its age; it was clearly an elder, from the labored steps to the stench of sickness. He was not concerned in the slightest.

Corvus was content to return to drifting off to sleep until he heard the old canine's voice creak through the thin air. He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes. Who was she talking to? He was positive that no one else was here. Was she mad? That seemed likely, he thought, chuckling lowly to himself. He was not concerned if he could be heard, not budging an inch.