Arrow Lake ou l'Optimisme

It had taken her some time to prepare the meal she carried with her. And while she salivated at the thought of simply eating the plump rabbit herself, she knew better than to do so; and would refrain. It was but the first of many she intended to seed about the area, here where she was within sight of the mountains, and not far from the meadow which still boasted enough of a greenish hint to the dying grasses and flowers to signal to her that her potency was correct. 

The rabbit she carried with her, now, had been poisoned. 

Not the rabbit itself, of course- it had died in her jaws as she'd chased it down through the dusty grassland, and she had torn into the small creature to retrieve the warm, muscular heart it had and had devoured that for herself. And in its place- with paws that would be washed fervently afterwards- she rubbed a thin poultice of toxic herbs. Stuffed within the rabbit's body cavity, she felt it less likely to draw suspicion. 

And now- catching sight of the thin, stoic figure near the lake, she paused. She saw, or thought she saw, somewhat of a shadow about him- a spectre that haunted him, perhaps, she thought. She clenched her teeth into the rabbit's fur, where it had begun to whiten in preparation for the winter- just enough to make the rabbit's ribs crackle in her jaws.