Duck Lake the long fall

uktark does not move when she asks.
no turn toward the peaks. no pull of the valley.
he watches her instead, steady, measuring, something intent behind his eyes. a slow breath leaves him through his nose.
no, he says simply.
his tail lowers, relaxed but sure. not yet.
a pause, then—quiet honesty, rare. “i stay.”
he shifts his weight, settling near the carcass, claiming the moment rather than the land. hunt more, he agrees. eat. talk.
his gaze lifts to her again, intent but unpressing. i give you reason.