Duck Lake The sound won't carry

A response in a heavily-accented garble of wolf-language carried timidly over the haze. And distinctly female, she’d realize, with a baffled twist of muzzle. Curiosity piqued. Her neck craned to see clearer.

But she did not. Only, an amorphous collection of pale folds. Did she have teeth? Or eyes?

“What are you?”

A rude ask. But no more so than this voyeurism, she would reason. She eyed the talking glob with more suspicion, perhaps, than was owed the sentient being.