Duck Lake if you're mad, too bad, sounds like a personal issue

And as the world crumbled to pieces all around her, Prialux DeMonte kept going on. She didn't notice, and her figure wasn't quite a symbol of it at the time being, but she was stronger than she appeared to be. Prialux had gone through loss, neglect and rejection - but she had, though, also known kindness in the world. Finite and meager kindness, through which the girl had learned that herself was the only thing she would never lose.

Herself and her drive to live.

Slowly, too slow perhaps for her needs, Prialux had learned how to hunt a proper meal. Small game was her only option; small, slow and dumb game, among which duck was a best-seller. She had followed their migration further inland than she'd ever been, and up there in their gathering hole she'd stayed for so long that she couldn't remember Kitsch or Murgash or even Amara anymore. She was just Pria, just a lone soul surviving.

Stay.Fucking.Put! she growls through her clenched jaws at the first unfortunate creature she'd caught in a couple days. He almost fled from her inexperienced attack, but Prialux got lucky for once. It had been hell just stalking it, such an erratic and volatile bird, and even after clutching her fangs around his webbed paw he was a literal mouthful. Feathers flew off left and right and the infernal squawking didn't stop until the honey huntress yanked him down and smacked him against the rocky shore.