Duck Lake come back to me

She was shouting above the chaos of the moment but even if he had been paying attention to her, it wouldn't have helped. Larus struggled for a handful of minutes and finally found purchase with his posturing, dragging his forelimbs out from the broken ice sheet. They sloshed a dark line of water across the ice as he finally came free, and it wasn't until he was staggering back to the safety of the dry land that he noticed his injury.

It wasn't much: some lacerations around his elbows where the ice had caught him during the withdrawal. His legs were so numb by this point that they didn't hurt, and the water diluted whatever meager amount of slow-moving blood in to a pale pink across the lackluster fur of his limbs.

It was done, though. A hole was made. He flashed a contented grin to Laurel and motioned with his nose, panting as he spoke, There you go. Drink up, miss. He would leave her to that and tend to his small injuries whether she drank or not. The cuts did not appear deep but again, the cold of the water (and now the cold of the air blowing across his soaked front-end) made it difficult to tell. He plopped his rear-end down and inspected himself, taking his attention away from Laurel for the time being.