not a grocery store rotisserie chicken to be found

The sounds of shorebirds wheeling and cawing above almost eclipsed Wilder's approach. Fable appreciated him announcing his presence and turned to greet the stranger as he settled in beside her, pleasantly surprised by the easy-going and open expression on his face. Finally, a friendly face. She didn't realize how much tension she'd been trapping in her shoulders until the smallest amount of it eased at his smile. "Yes, help would be lovely," Fable said, dipping her head in greeting. Although he seemed to be a friendly-to-neutral presence, she held back her name. It's possible that he was tailing her this entire time, hot on the heels of her escape. Maybe he was toying with her and waiting for her guard to drop before he shrieked for vengeance in the name of his king and slew her right here on the ice.

But... that was unlikely. Right?

He had seemed to come from the opposite direction, at the very least, although that didn't count for too much out on the open ice. It could be a calculated plan. Ah, there was the tension again, building in her muscles until she was taught and ready to spring. Fable stood up to stretch her legs out and hide the quivering in her hind end. She'd hardly rested since she'd left her former home and this hunt would likely be her last burst of energy. "I was thinking we could..." her voice trailed off as the geyser erupted again and hit just the wing of one of the birds. The bird cried out and its flight took a few jagged turns before it landed nearby to nurse the wound. She watched for a moment longer, timing out the next eruption. In fact, it happened almost on a perfect schedule. Fable turned to him with a wicked grin. "Actually, I have an idea. If we time it right, we could drive the flock resting by the outer pool right into the geyser as it erupts. Winner, winner, chicken dinner?" And the hot water would cook them a bit, she imagined. Yum. Just what her empty stomach longed for.