Duck Lake what do you see

"Then try to be more careful next time. I wanted duck for dinner." Goldry snickered and wagged his tail too.

He noticed her stiff posture seemed to loosen up, and her eyes had wandered briefly before his question. He slid into sphinx-like repose, and he continued to watch her but with a softer expression. It seemed they were both eager to drop their guard, yet experienced and cautious enough not to do so with abandon. Despite his gibe at her recklessness, Goldry was under no illusion that she was defenseless nor that she would hesitate to attack if necessary. The slew of scars on her face and back leg—the old wound on her left shoulder—convinced him she knew combat intimately.

He, too, knew battle well. Yet the knowledge prompted him to avoid conflict whenever possible and to keep the fight short and sweet. He had no prominent scars, no trophies; he knew some might take this as evidence of cowardice. Aguta seemed like the type to make this mistake. His grin grew a little lopsided. Better to be underestimated than well appraised.

For her sake, he tried not to assume too much; although it seemed to him that her hard eyes, her flinty expression, her tough exterior were all betrayed every time she spoke. Aguta seemed to be a fiery, passionate woman locked in the body of someone taught to be cold and aloof… which was, of course, merely speculation. But if he took her words at face value, there was certainly evidence for it. If she really was so reckless when she tried to run from herself, it was not a huge leap of faith to assume she was acting on an impulsive, self-destructive whim. Hardly the behavior of a practical, analytical creature of cold detachment.

Goldry regarded her steadily for a moment. "What about you? Are you hungry?"