Duck Lake the long fall

!

uktark halted at the treeline where the ice met reed and snow. he saw her then—small against the lake, crouched with intent, weighing weakness with a hunter’s eye. he did not announce himself. this was not his take.
he settled into stillness, watching the way she read the flock, the patience in her pause, the quiet discipline of her breath. skill showed in moments like this, before the strike. uktark waited to see if she had it.