Firestone Hot Springs Paper Faces on Parade

Thank you, once again! Just sticking a final post in here before archiving this.

Nynka could hardly even envision a deliciously fat and juicy crow; all the ones she had seen had always been miserably scrawny shadows, not toothsome at all and quite the racket-makers to boot. She had to admit even just the possibility was tempting, though... and something surely had to have thickened this white wolfcreature up so. But if she was lying about these geyers and ther gourmet meals of fat and sassy crow they had served up to her, then...what else could have made her so?

With a cheeky final wish of "good luck with your lunch!" the canine beat a suspiciously abrupt retreat. Nynka didn't bother to chase after her very long or hard or far, instead falling back and looking all around with narrowed gaze to try and figure out where among these mysterious mists these bulked-up crows and the like might be hiding. Faugh, she muttered, though the departing canid likely couldn't hear her over another nearby burst of steam anyway. But she certainly wasn't going to go quite far enough as to stand there as advised with her head tipped back and mouth open like some kind of idiot—not only might that look immensely foolish and leave her wide open for the next predator to swoop down looking for a steamed meal, just as importantly it sounded horrendously boring—but she did cast eyes and nose about for some sign of these roided-out crows or any other edible beastie unwary enough to get themselves cooked and served up on a platter for hungry weasels. It was useless, though; in the span of less than an hour the increasingly impatient Nynka's stomach was growling loud enough to scare off prey all by itself, and she was irritated, damp all over, and still empty-mouthed. Time to depart for greener pastures... but the weasel made a note of the area just the same, to come back and check it again at some time that big fat white wolf might not have swallowed up all its bounty.