Duck Lake ; i guess i'm not like you

welcome to the typo hellhole. all invited!! @Goosie

 

The small femme was a blur as she ducked in and out of the reeds, paws puncturing the frigid waters with expert precision. The russet could feel her hear pounding in her ears, hyper aware of the breath leaving her chest and the sounds of something struggling to her right. It was just a little farther ahead, and when she exploded from the reeds and other aquatic plantlife she clocked it. Instantly. Her quarry - a duck with a mangled wing - was attempting to take flight from the outter rim of the crystalline lake. It wouldn't make it far if she had anything to do with it. The lithe huntress lauched herself into the lake with a powerful push of her hind legs, twisting her form so she was aimed right at the duck like some insane canine missile. It was a rather impressive display, perhaps a little bit too dramatic. But she lived for the drama of it all. She was theatrical.

Oath hit the water with a loud splash and snapped wildly at the duck whilst trying not to inhale the whole lake. She could swim, but the cold water had shocked her system and she felt a little lightheaded. Pushing on, the femme continued to propel herself after the bird as it continued its feeble escape attempt. After a moment of struggling on both of their ends, the russets teeth brushed feathers and she gave one last lurch before fastening her powerful jaws securely around the birds wing. From there, it was the struggle back to shore; the constant adjustment of her jaws as she scrabbled to grab flesh and not just the birds primary wing feathers, the churning of water while she waited for her prey to stop struggling and 'flap it out', so to say. It was frustrating in that moment but would be much more satisfying later.

The minute Oath's small paws hit solid, or somewhat solid, ground she dispatched the bird. Right then and there. The huntress' usual grin was now obscenely self-gratifying - entirely feral. She slunk out of the water and eased up the bank, towards the aspen trees, where she would settle down to groom her own soaked fur and eventually get to plucking her fresh fowl. As she moved the bird between her paws, a little fidgety, and spitting feathers every few moments, she thought about their current predicament. She'd made a horrible impression on Easthollow, and while she didn't rightly care, she wasn't so sure that Goose felt the same. While Oath had been surprised and somewhat pleased that their plea for sanctuary had been considered and granted, she couldn't help but feel entirely distant from the pack. Genuinely unwanted. Not a new feeling, truth be told, but an aggravating one because Goose deserved their attention. Their affection. And they appeared to be taking out their dislike for her magnificent self on Goose's just as equally magnificent self. Which was shit. Utter shit and Oath really just wanted to rip some hamstrings in frustration. Family my ass.

Oath snorted loudly and let her eyes scan the horizion - squinting in the morning light - as she looked for her pale companion. Her ears pricked as she waited for any sign of the other female - or signs of any other charming characters lurking about.