Duck Lake dancing shores

she arrived upon the lakeside just as the final kiss of dusklight danced across the dark, calm surface of the stillwater. it's shoreline glistened with small fractures of crystalized ice, though the main body of water remained untainted by winter's bite.

she tread closer to the edge, her reflection greeting her as a shattered echo — familiar and yet so different now. nothing felt rushed here, and yet her heart beat wildly.

she shook free of the momentary forgetting, dipping a pale snout low to quickly lap at the water's edge before continuing once more along the basin. as she moved her attention was kept strictly to the snowy landscape, her goal simple; identify any tracks of potential prey that frequented the lake.

with any luck, she might position herself to fill a rumbling stomach.

The lake has become a regular haunt. Mainly, it is to satiate Fúyáo's fondness of waterfowl, but lately she comes to simply relax. 

A pair of moorhens scatter from a half-hearted pounce as the princess splashes her way along the shallow melt-water. In a way, this place reminds her of home.

Pausing to shake her pelt of mud and dew, she is readying herself to move on when movement on the other side of the lake catches her eye. A bird? Too large. A deer, then? Wolf? Cat? She releases a curious puff of air.

It does not occur to her that these things smelled wildly different. Fúyáo sets herself up for an ambush of sorts, hoping the deer-wolf-cat-thing would pass nearby.

uktark came to the lake on the heels of thunder—caribou breaking hard from the pass, driven low and wide by his pressure. the herd split at the water’s edge, older beasts peeling away into the shallows where ice fractured and footing failed. he slowed then, letting them scatter, letting weakness reveal itself.
that was when he saw them.
the younger duck-lover lingered near the meltwater, hunger loud in her movements. farther along the basin, another woman—pale, quiet, reading tracks with the same need written tight beneath her skin. both hungry. both watching the lake.
uktark halted at the edge, steam rolling from his chest, eyes moving between caribou, water, and wolves alike. coincidence or not, winter had drawn them all here.

it is only some moments that pass before her attention is stolen from the trackless ground and cast upward toward the fleeing pair of waterfowl. the blushing sky painted the birds in rosy shades of apricot and amber, but it is not their momentary beauty that she is concerned with.

her attention glided across the now rustled waters to where the moorhen had been startled and set sky-born. there stood an inky-drawn figure, darkened now by the waning last light of a fleeting sun. she turned her steps toward the other, a misty puff of vaporized air set hurling across the lake.

but just as she lifted her footing to tread near, the booming whisper of hooves drew louder and louder, until galloping hearts met glass-bound waters. and then there was another in the biting cold, each exhale a ghostly plume as steam curled and twisted like silver ribbons in the air around him.

paws shifted hesitantly beneath her, a glance toward each figure now triangulated across the lake. but her stomach set her feet steady, and her attention drew swiftly toward the now water-snared caribou.

Her game is cut short by a roar of bellows and hooves, and Fúyáo's attention is torn from the approaching figure to the mass of antlered beasts that shatter the quiet twilight. 

By their tattered pelts and ribby flanks, they have seen many more seasons than her. But it is the shadowed figure behind them that draws a keen bark-howl from her throat. Provider. The thought is a bitter tether, the promise of another meal.

The princess makes a move, slipping from the shore to reinforce his corral with feint nips and growls, dancing atop the slippery ice-sheets in hopes of preventing the beasts from breaking to deeper water. Her gaze scans their gates for injury, meanwhile her ears track the lone female, waiting, curious to see what role she might play.

uktark drove them hard into the bend, water exploding around his chest as the herd broke and scattered. the weak one peeled off just as he’d read—an older cow, legs trembling, river stealing her footing. he surged, a black mass cleaving the shallows, and snapped his jaws shut around her hind hoof.
not to drag.
not yet.
he held—testing. feeling the strain, the slip, the panic shudder through bone. the river foamed around them, his weight anchoring her in place as he lifted his head, eyes cutting to the shoreline.
now.
he waited to see who would answer—who would bite flank, who would cut escape, who would commit. the cow lurched; uktark tightened his grip just enough to keep her honest, water churning in his wake as he braced, patient as stone, letting the others choose their moment.

methodical chaos erupted with the bulk of the herd splitting off in frantic spurts, leaving the elder cow to struggle on her own.

the once distant figure burst forward, revealing the shimmering moonlit beauty of a young wraith. nephele kept a distance between herself and the others, watchful, calculative. she did not know them — she would not brazenly risk her health for them.

but the allure of a full belly kept her tethered.

she waited until the right moment presented itself before she lurched forward to assist where she could. an ill-footed step seized a wince from her, but she recovered quickly enough to not let it show — not in front of them.

she aimed for the quickest end to the beast, a swift and lethal bite to the jugular. her grip would remain as strong as the man's clasp on the cow's leg. should he slip, so would she.

Her heart hammers as they drive the beasts towards a fast-flowing inlet. Fúyáo nips at their heels to keep them moving, dodging a sweeping antler so that the brawny Uktark may better select his target, trusting his judgement above her own.

Ears swivel to catch the roar of cow and river, and it is only when she is satisfied none will come to her aid that she turns to see the timeless struggle of hunter and prey in motion. The man slows her, but the woman makes for the kill, and Fúyáo knows that both will soon tire in the frigid water.

Trepidation has her pacing the bank, feeling the waves lap enticingly at her toes but deciding, finally, that her fangs are best used to ward off a potential escape.

cold split around his chest as he surged forward, jaws clamping hard around the cow’s hind hoof. he did not rush the kill—he dragged. slowed her. weight and muscle working together as he pulled her off balance, forcing her head low, breath tearing from her in panicked bellows.
he felt the opening before he saw it.
the white female moved. princess cut at the flanks, sharp and relentless, denying every desperate attempt to break free. uktark held fast until the cow faltered, until the river churned red and her strength bled out beneath them.
when she went down, he released.
uktark backed through the shallows and settled hard on his haunches, chest heaving, steam rolling from his mouth in thick clouds. water streamed from his fur; blood clung dark to his legs. he watched the carcass, then the women—alert, present, approving.
a low sound rumbled from him.