Blackbeak Bluff don’t do it, don’t give it up

there were so many birds.

the yearling crouched, her limbs tucked tight to her undercarriage as her tail steadied her, slinking towards a group of gulls.

her chocolate gaze held upon the colony as the tall, lush grasses that had survived the winter waved beneath the gentle breeze.  they blended in well with the snow but they were loud and confident, and she had not yet seen where the land dropped off steep to the beaches below.

wiggling her rump, she launched herself at one of the gulls, her petite jaws snapping wildly.  she had not been on many of her own hunting expeditions; her mother had not really expected her to leave, and her inexperience shone through as the gulls scattered in a flurry.

she tumbled through the snow, and one of her back paws broke through the ice that had covered the edge of the bluff, and the delicate bones of her leg clashed against the rock.  terrified, she went to grip with her other leg and slid — both back legs hanging off the bluff, but not quite dangling.

she whimpered and screamed, trying to get a grip with her dull claws.