Dawnlark Plains Madly

As Masque ascertained the geese, she couldn’t help but think of the pheasant she’d killed the night before. It had been eerily easy, though she knew that wasn’t going to be the case today. She had never really bothered with birds. The hen had been an exception. They were complicated prey at best and at worst, downright dangerous.

But if Redd was up for the challenge, Masquerade would rise to the occasion. She waited patiently for her sister to take point and make a move. When Redd indicated her target, Masque nodded her assent and readied herself. When her sister sprang into the shallows to tackle the goose, she observed, assessed and then launched after her.

She dove for one of the goose’s wings, which had spread and begun beating the air as its defensive honks rang in the wolves’ ears. Masque registered the rest of the flock taking flight around her but maintained her focus, trying to get a good grasp on the flailing pinions.

When that proved nearby impossible due to the bird’s utterly chaotic movements, Masque changed tack. Planting her hind feet on the slimy stream bed, she reared and then drove her forelegs down on the goose’s back. She tried to avoid knocking into Redd as she attempted to shove the bird underwater. Maybe if Redd also pushed it down, they could manage to drown the damn thing.