Swiftcurrent Creek And I can't help you fix yourself

Cygnet had taken her time to creep as close to the bustling cluster of brush, listening to the chuckle of several partridges all gathered there likely for warmth. Their feathers helped them blend in almost perfectly with the dried, brown stalks, but their chatter and the scattered footprints surrounding the shrubs gave them away. Cygnet used her own camouflage- remaining close to the ground, pressing her belly into the light covering of snow, pulling her paw up to cover her dark nose and squinting her eyes whenever she thought she might be suspected. 

Once she found the little gap that she assumed was the entrance into their shrubby home, she waited there, until the snapping of twigs indicated that they would come out to forage. The moment she spotted the first hen poking its head out of the gap, she lunged. 

The birds beat their wings and had to thrash in order to crash through the bushes and into the sky- but not quickly enough. Cygnet was weaselly and lissome yet, and managed to sneak into their gap quite well, snapping at the first bird she encountered as it tried to flap away. It pecked at her cheek but with a couple vicious tosses of her head, the hen went silent, dizzied. She withdrew from the bushes as the other birds scattered overhead, and quickly pinned hers to the ground, before promptly decapitating it. 

She was hungry, and yet she wanted to show her catch to Arlette before she ate it. So with a bouncy trot, and her stubbed tail held high, she began to trot through the packlands in search of her caretaker, feeling quite proud of herself-

until she caught sight of Arric. 

She slowed, and stopped. Her tail fell, and twitched; showing irritation in the same way a bobcat might. Surprisingly, though, she felt herself wanting him to see her catch too- to realize what a fine hunter she was becoming- and so she tipped her head up, allowing the bird's wings to sag, making it appear larger than it was.