Greatwater Lake burned but not buried this time

there was commotion enough to rouse zharille from her stalking. she turned to regard the boy as if he'd done some great and terrible thing, and saw the rat hanging from his teeth. it was a good kill; it was not enough food for herself, though, so she did not contest him for it.

a snort was all she issued as praise, and the idle flick of her tail-tip. it was the bare minimum effort and got the bare minimum response. perhaps now that he had his own meat, he would be bearable company.

she set her sights on a game trail leading towards the water: it smelled of river otter, and was very strong, and so it was fresh. a few deep whuffs of this and zharille had forgotten the rat - she was in pursuit of something long and lean.