Swiftcurrent Creek disappointed people clinging onto bottles

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The feeling you get when one's eyes are upon you is unmistakeable. It was like a spirit from beyond the grave glowered over her shoulder. An awful, cold feeling, and as such, when Wren made her pounce for the waterfowl, the giant bird spread its downy wings and took off before her teeth could even make contact.
And into the waters she went.
Thrashing turned into instinctive paddling as she violently searches for leverage, which was found in the form of a different slab. Fucking son of a bitch! she curses at the bird, who had now touched down a ways upstream. Goddammit! Shit! I hate you! Had she fists, she would have shaken them in a crimson frustration.
Having resigned to her birdless fate, she lumbers back up onto the bank, giving her fur a wild shake and swiping her tongue over a foreleg. And it was only then that she realized the feeling of being watched must have come from somebody nearby.
Whipping her head around left and right, her gaze finally lands upon the source. A woman of the Creek, yes, she had seen her around, but this was one she had never spoken to. Can I... help... you?