Duck Lake little dark age

Thank you!

The pair fretted over each other's motives, but the little Lobo made good on his deal and carved off the two wings from the duck. Skífa relaxed even more. He was half-convinced the stranger would try running with the duck in tow. He would have if their places were switched.

Wings in hand, the stranger sped off like a gunshot. Skífa hove forward and snatched the rest of the duck, then idly watched the other wolf go until he'd disappeared into the snarled lake foliage and gray winter weather. Skífa skulked away from the shore too, into denser wildlands, and scarfed down. It was the first half-way decent meal he'd had in recent memory.

A powdering of feathers obscured the site of his meal. Snow started coming down in thick white flakes. Skífa looked north, licked his chops, and left the lake behind.