Duck Lake fortitude

"Reaper," she gritted in a rasping monotone as she turned to see the canine dogging her steps. She was as lost as he when it came to the hunt, but pretended at a facade of knowingness. The scent of rabbits taunted her, and she lapped futilely at the saliva dripping from her jaws.

Large paws carried her to the entrance of a burrow, but her muzzle was too broad for investigation, and so Warthog glanced back at Reaper, an entreaty in her soft brown eyes. Perhaps he could do the honors?