Duck Lake know what you want

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From the corner of her eye, a blackness grew thick. Eventually she turned her head towards it, and stiffened as she watched a strange male approach. She refused, however, to upseat herself, her tail flagging slowly back and forth in quiet warning. He paused at a respectable distance, carrying with him the scent of others, which did little to quell her prickling. Ears forward, she met his stark bluegaze evenly— a challenge, if he took it that way— and kept herself firmly seated. The imperial wench.

When he spoke, her ears gave a small twitch atop an otherwise stony countenance, and the intensity of her posture loosened just slightly. Neither, she said in all cheekiness, her whiskers curving almost snidely at the dark mercenary; as she thought herself a creature made clever and merciful. I was giving them their last moments of peace.
 

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