Duck Lake a game you're gonna lose

He seemed so enraptured by this Kipling she was taken back for a moment not expecting him to be so superstitious. She'd only been kidding after all. The loner was reluctant to shake her head and reassure him, It's just an old wives' tale. If he was gullible enough to willingly believe in zombies what other lies could Kipling feed him? He'd certainly left an interesting impression on her, but the woman was not in the right spirits to keep up any charade. For good measure she struck a paw out to tap the heap of duck dismissively, confident that it wouldn't suddenly rise from the underworld. And it didn't disappoint, the only movement made was the ruffling of feathers as she removed her touch. That I should be...?She echoed, puzzled as that had not quite been her implication by comparing herself to the undead. The suggestion he brought up though lingered longer than was necessary and she suppressed the shiver threatening to creep up her spine. No! She barked suddenly, a bit louder than necessary before taking a breath to compose herself and lower her head once more. I mean... that's not what I meant. Embarrassed her eyes pinned to back to the duck, too flustered to look back up at the snow-kissed figure. I meant... like... I walk around with no real purpose. The dead don't belong in this world, you know, their time is over with. So I guess that I... don't know how to use my time. She concluded, though still she seemed unsure. Now that she had put it into perspective it did actually seem like she 'should' be dead if she didn't have a purpose and it made her uncomfortable.