Duck Lake dorn zunge

"Good!" this was probably the first genuine praise that Mahler heard from Sarah, though, if he knew the reasoning, I doubt that he would have felt flattered. The huntress decided that a less-weathered bird hunter was easier to train (read - boss around) than one, who was set in their ways and knew, what to do best (read - her).

Already gears in her mind were turning, plotting out the exact placement on the map, tactics and everything else. All was great, except, when they had walked quite a long way along the banks, no ducks came inside. There was a distant, mocking duck-laugh somewhere in the middle of the lake. "Bloody birds," Sarah growled to herself and then turned to Mahler.

"No lunch this time, pal," she told him, there was a bit of remorse in her voice for missing a chance to show off, but he did not have to know that. "See you around, I guess. For a different hunt," she added.