Duck Lake the long fall

faust had watched the whole thing without moving, eyes flat, unimpressed. close—yes. but close did not feed bellies.
when her back turned, he was already gone from where he stood.
snow whispered once. then his shadow fell over her.
he appeared behind her like something pulled out of the ice itself, breath huffing sharp against her shoulder in a single, curt sound—not a threat, not comfort. correction.
his head cocked, chin angling toward the reeds at the lake’s edge where a small knot of rock ptarmigan huddled low, half-buried, foolishly still.
there.