Lake Rodney тень

Enter the toothy little pest.

Penn had decided to check in on his territory that morning. The Caldera remained unclaimed and ripe for the taking, which is how he intended to keep it until his time came. He had no real plans for just when that time might be, but that was alright. He believed he would know it when it came. From there, he had decided to wander a bit.

That was when he'd come across a prize of a different sort. Penn's eyes had widened hungrily at the sight of the stag standing at the banks of the lake. The animal was huge--every inch of him made up of delicious meats that the youth was very eager to have in his belly. An older, more experienced wolf would've known that to take such a creature down on their own was completely hopeless. Penn was not old, though, nor was he experienced. In fact, he was a bit of an idiot. So instead of walking away as he ought, he prowled towards it.

"You know why they call this Lake Rodney?" Penn called from his vantage point a few yards down the shoreline, his posture relaxed and welcoming, as though all he wanted in this world was to chat with a deer for a while. Which he did, really. It's just that he had alterior motives for his unlikely friendliness.