Duck Lake hypnos

with the air of a spectator watching their dog furiously chase its tail for at least the fifth time that hour, condor rested his chin on his paws and watched buzzard’s tongue poke out of the corner of their mouth. the mud was just as wet and sticky as it had been and no number of aspens would offer cover comparable in any way to canyon walls but, as much as it pained him to admit it, he would have to…settle. disgusting.

ugh. and he couldn’t even dramatically wilt on to his side lest he spend the next several minutes cleaning his beautiful rosebrown fur. truly this was hell and his pristine coat was his burden to bear. buzzard’s sisyphean torment, on the other hand, was figuring out how to catch a duck.

the alternative was their fur actually being washed and groomed, and not even hell could manage that one.

in the meantime, condor could practically see the smoke coming out of buzzard’s ears. yikes. his poor, poor sibling. it would be even more of a tragedy for them if they succeeded and condor stole their prize directly out of their mouth. such was his burden to bear as a younger brother.

sadly, it was not to be. the birds started up an unpleasant chorus whose origins came directly above his head, and condor peered up to lay eyes on a white raven perched in the trees. an odd-looking thing, and thoroughly out of anyone’s reach, which was the cue for buzzard to come stomping over and declare their intent to make it into a snack.

well, it was only fair.

“darling, don’t tell it that first.” condor absolutely did not care enough to get to their paws, though they were a bit put off that buzzard’s daring duck adventure would have to be set aside until later. “that’s no way to make a first impression.”