Duck Lake and sweetly she did sing (p -zombie)

Being a little vague, since I'm not sure what's happening with Carolina, yet!

Zombie clutched the femur tightly in her jaws, her teeth settling into the grooves that had formed in the old bone over time. Once, it had been tugged from a fresh kill, thick and succulent meat attached. She had eaten it greedily at the time, though she had not truly known what hunger was back then. All too quickly, however, the remaining femur represented the last source of sustenance she would have. Too young to hunt for herself, Zombie should have died when her parents were killed...

She and the femur had been through a lot together. Though she should have died, Zombie was still walking the earth.

When she smelled—and then heard—the approach of another, the yearling ducked behind an outgrowth of reeds. Silently, she willed herself to be far enough downwind that she would not be noticed. Zombie wasn't used to others, and she wasn't quite sure she was ready for another interaction so soon. Instead, her electric green eyes watched with faint curiosity as the older female leapt towards the quacking fowl.

As the ducks scattered, leaving Zombie a perfect view of the other—duckless—she lifted her head in both surprise and an inflamed sense of curiosity. After a moment of hesitation, the yearling marched toward the other to halt a few meters away, at which point she carefully laid down the femur—like a child might lay down a doll—and placed a protective paw over it.

"How do you stay alive, if you can't hunt?" she questioned, slightly impassioned. "How do your bones not show?"