Lake Bismuth "Ill fate and abundant wine."

pappies? colt snorted. "roun' these parts, we call those ducks," he offered in helpful, rough connection. the sight of the glimmering birds, fat with summertime bounty, opened a gnawing pit in his rodential belly.
"let's get over there, see if we can flush em sideways instead of up," colt muttered, jerking his head for lynx to circle toward the other side of the water.
briggs himself dropped to ragged belly and stalked forward, attempting to stay hidden in such open space that it felt laughable, and foolish besides.