Otter Creek Konk-la-ree

It was well past sunset before she decided to call her long march to a halt and settle down at the banks of a glistening tributary of some larger waterway, her limbs sore but hardened, and belly more than a little grumbly. She hadn't yet decided just how far she planned on travelling, but over the last few weeks, the stars had changed, and the transition from light to dark had become less extreme. The terrain had been easy enough, and she had not had much trouble finding good hunting here or there, but the journey itself had become rather tiresome. There had been few others along the road to converse with, and the few Kittiwake had crossed paths with had only been temporary companions, their trails only paralleling for a brief time before diverging once again. It had been nearly a week since she had had more than fleeting contact with another wolf, and as much as Kittiwake valued solitude, it was getting a bit boring.

The rustling and chattering of some critter pulled her attention from the rippled surface of the creek, and she tensed, cupping her ears towards the sound. Never one to ignore a case of the munchies, Kittiwake crouched closer and attempted to pinpoint the source of the disturbance, which seemed to be coming from a dense hedge of dogwood. It was a blackbird roost, perhaps fifty strong, and they were just settling in for the night.

Five minutes and a raucous commotion later, Kittiwake trotted from the hedge with a single bird in tow, its fiery red epaulette flashing as it dangled to and fro from her jaws. The rest of the flock regrouped and quickly returned to their communal roost, seemingly unperturbed by the loss in their numbers even as Kittiwake reclined by the water's edge and crunched away at her evening snack.