Duck Lake blue heron

Redd watched.

She had taken to calling him Quiet Storm in her mind.  She had not understood the name given to her, and silently, the brooding presence he wore carried more of the energy of storm than sun.  Her curiosity about which suns he had eaten went unvoiced for now.

She was poised to intervene but waited, knowing the buck would thrash.  If he could hold it then he was best positioned to subdue it without injury. She would intervene if his hold was broken or additional teeth were needed.