Still Life On The Water

Just how many packs were there in this god forsaken land? She’d thought she’d been home free after her run-in with that boisterous pup and hadn’t come across another soul for over a week. It had been nice, like she could actually breath again, but now she could smell the scent of a pack floating along with the wind. This time, she was determined to skirt past them.

Having taken a wide berth around to follow close to the coast, she came across an estuary that seemed to be teeming with bird-life. It seemed like hundreds of the aviators were clustered in the wetlands, squawking and chirping to their heart’s content. Her stomach growled at the thought of some bird and she figured it would be easy enough to snatch a chick from their parents’ wandering gaze.

Oh, how wrong she was. When she snuck around a heron’s nest, the mother nearby fishing, she’d thought she was in luck. She was poised, ready for the kill, her jaws open and waiting to snatch up a heron chick, when suddenly she was being pecked on the head. She cried out in pain and confusion, tail tucking between her legs as she ducked and put her paws over her head, squeezing her eyes shut to try and protect herself from the sharp beak.