Duck Lake i am under the surface —?

There was something about the lake that day that filled Millet with a sort of... calm. A calm she hadn't felt in a while, ever since she ran away from her birthplace. She had been running, on edge, fleeing for as long as she could remember. But now, on this peaceful day, she could safely say she was officially a wanderer at this point. Not a runaway, simply a vagrant.

And Millet didn't like that, one bit. She longed for a home, a pack, a place where she could take care of others, and be taken care of.

She pushed this longing to the back of her mind as she approached the lake's edge, lapping the water gently. It was only when a breeze picked up did Millet realize she wasn't as alone in this moment as she thought. She timidly put her nose to the air, trying to catch the scent as best she could, to get an idea of who might be nearby.