Honeyed Pasture like you've never felt the ground before

@Simmik

Renard had forged their way through meadow upon meadow of grass in the last few days, and while they were very much prepared to complain about it getting old -- a fondness of theirs -- they had seen plenty other than prairie.

And complain as they might, at least it could be useful here. There were few things like long grass for disguise, few things beyond the shadows of a forest or the onset of dusk. This time they were not staring at bison too large to take down, or fields of flowers that tickled the nose. The grass was still too-long, but now that was all for good. The banks sloped softly down to the stream below and in the middle of the stream, blissfully unaware of the predator crouching just downwind, was a beaver and a half-completed dam. A fine opportunity for a meal, as long as Renard could be patient.

Renard was good at being patient.

In the river's shallows, the animal was still half-submerged under its dam and they knew from experience it was more frustrating than worthwhile to pull the things apart. All they needed to do was wait for it to stray far enough away, maybe back to the trees for more building material, and move just so, not rustle the grass or the reeds...

They were getting ahead of themselves. Just wait. Quiet. They could do quiet.

Good was perhaps relative.