Duck Lake And the blisters on my lips

rala had trekked a ways away from the valley, deciding on heading back to the lake to see if it had made any progress in freezing over. the ducks that lingered were those that were too injured to fly with the rest of the flock - so perhaps she could catch herself an easy meal, too. even the thought of duck-meat made saliva pool in her throat.

her scent, now swathed in bearclaw valley, blew forwards in the slow breeze. she walked downwind, now, and the huntress's skin crawled as she did. she had always learnt that walking downwind was how one invited strangers to attack, but she did it nonetheless, as there was no other way to get to the lake from upwind, unless she came from the taiga.

a dark swath of fur was spottable on the horizon, now, lowering themselves down to the ground, and so rala adopted a trot in her step, drawing closer. the patch of fur then became a figure, one that she recognised, remembered, and so her speed increased, going from trot to canter. her tail swayed behind her as she went, and once within shouting-distance, she would call: calfuray! a smile wide upon her features.

she knew they would meet again.