Whitewater Gorge do not speak against the sun

she was on a trail, nose low to the ground, breathing in the mouth-watering, gut-churning scent of a rabbit.  although she'd fed recently, it had been vile and distasteful, and had ultimately come back up anyway — rotting meat apparently did not sit kindly on her stomach.

she had pondered shoving it back down again, like some dogs do, but there were some things even she was above.

so she'd put her nose to the grindstone and it had led her here — wherever that was.  her ears flicked back as she pulled herself back to reality, churning water catching her attention briefly before she sets back on the trail.

at last her efforts come to fruition, quickly, she snuffs the rabbit out with one clamp of her jaws and a shake of her head, and sets about devouring it just as quickly.

she picks up what's left of the creature and carries it with her as she heads towards the source of all the noise, but the silhouette of a man causes her to pause, hackles raising before he has acknowledged her.

perhaps she can just slip out while he is working to forge the cascading water.