Duck Lake Show and tell

Qamar watched silently as Orkan made his first attempt at catching fish here. She had to give him credit for technique as he approached calmly, quietly, waiting for the right moment. It only took a few short moments before the dark wolf had lifted his head with a fish in tow, wriggling frantically against the teeth sank into its silver body.

"Very nice," she praised Orkan with a smile. "More pessimistic minds would maybe pass that off as beginner's luck, but I think you indeed have a talent for this." She looked down at the fish; it was small, and she was sure they could find some bigger individuals for their dining pleasure here. Before she would attempt a second time, however, she needed to answer his questions.

The silver female pointed her muzzle to the west, toward the rocky crags of the Sunspire Mountains. "My tribe and I live over there," she explained, "and we call a cavern our true home. I haven't been here for very long, though. My old pack. . ." She hesitated. Did this stranger truly need to know her backstory? For a brief instant, she weighed her choice of words, and finally decided to go with the simpler version of events. If she became closer to Orkan, if he came back with her to the Lair and decided to give Ryūjin a try, she might give him the details, but even then. . .

"Things didn't work out in my old pack, so I left," Qamar said succinctly, her tone carefully measured so as not to give away any hint of emotion. That was one thing she refused to do--giving strangers any hint of the sentiment that ran deep within. To her, a bared heart was a weakness, and showing her belly to a wolf she barely knew would be utter foolishness. "As for what things are like here, well, times are tough, as you've obviously seen. I've never known Teekon any other way. But others tell me that in better times, it's as beautiful and bountiful of a land as any on Earth."

Qamar looked to the north, the direction of her birthplace. For almost a decade, her father had told her, the ungulate herds had come every season without delay, and the wolves of the Yukon had feasted heartily. She longed for the day when she heard the snapping of tendons and the bleating of elk once more in the Teekon Wilds. Only then would they thrive.

A sudden primal longing for the taste of blood on her tongue galvanized her into action again. "Time for Round Two," she chuckled at Orkan, and lowered her head to the water, nose skimming the surface. Moments later, she emerged with a fine specimen of a fish and slammed it against the ground to kill it instantly. She marveled at the beauty of its scales glimmering in the sun. Beautiful creature, she mused, just not as tasty as an elk.