Duck Lake the long fall

uktark watched the strike without moving, eyes narrowed, weighing every beat of it—the wait, the timing, the clean snap at the neck. no waste. no panic. good.
when her gaze flew to him, bright and searching, his tail lifted once in a slow, deliberate sweep. approval, plain and unmistakable.
patience is key, he said, voice rough but even.
he stepped aside, giving her the space, the ground, the moment.
the kill’s yours.
a pause—longer than needed. speaking did not come easy.
his gaze settled on her again, steady, measuring.
name?