Purloin

Sure, Nimue smelt the distinctive markers of a pack at the edges of the territory- serving as a warning to wanders, that this place belonged to someone. But did Nimue care? Not one bit. Kings and Queens were scams anyway. All they did was destroy things. And the girl was starving, having crossed through a barren desert to reach this place finally. Fat pack wolves wouldn’t even notice if she took a bird for herself- they had lots of food and could spare some, as far as she was concerned. So, as Nimue approached the border of the wetland, she didn’t hesitate to cross over into the marsh. Staying close to the ground, loping through the grasses, which were almost as tall as her.

Honing in on a young pair of herons, Nimue carefully stalked towards them- mindful of each step she took, making sure not to slosh through the mud and alert them of her presence. And once she was within striking range, she would lunge forward- grabbing one by the throat, before forcefully jerking her head and snap! breaking its neck in a fluid motion. Blood dripping out from around her mouth, as the other heron panicked and flew away.

Dragging her kill to a dryer spot, she almost looked comical. The thing was the same size as her, if not bigger! She almost kept tripping over it, but finally, she was able to set it down and go to work on removing the feathers the breast area. Ears twisting upon her head, eyes frequently rising to survey her surroundings, as she kept an ear out just in case one of the pack wolves tried to take her by surprise.

”Speech”