Greatwater Lake a sedge of cranes

@Stark Haelvyr had insisted they rest, but Needle had energy to spare. She ran from him, their temporary dirt camp, and listened over her shoulder for following pawsteps. Except, cazador was not one to hover or hand-hold, and when the sounds of birds and preylife returned, she knew he had not come soon after.

It was high noon – certainly a time to take it easy, even during the cool, overcast of fall. She would later regret not listening to him, not conserving her energy at the behest of the pacesetter, but for now she wanted only to hunt. To chase and be thrilled. Or stalk and outclass.

She cantered the length of the great lake (larger than any she had ever seen!) until a flock of white appeared on the horizon: cranes. They waded in the shallows, fishing about with their long noses on strangely long legs. She knew they were birds by the way they flexed their wings and beaks, though hadn’t the faintest idea of their type.

It didn’t stop her from stalking them through the reeds, taking her time to close in on the nearest creature. The process was painstakingly slow. Many quiet moments passed before she made her move.

Quicker than they fished, she leaped into the bank water and snatched one by the tail, turning teeth to its leg and wing until it was helpless, then dead in the water. The rest were in the sky, a pale little cloud squawking up, up, and away.

Carrying her limp feather boa by the neck, she dragged it back to dry land and stood panting over her prize.

She tried to imagine the hint of pride on his face when she brought it back to him.