Branching out. Trying new tactics. Striking new ground. All things that bold, forward-thinking wolves did, so they were things that Duck had to do. His obsession with 'what would
So, in an attempt to continue expanding his horizons, Duck had crept east, towards that forsaken mountain, but not because he had any intention of climbing it. No, he could just remember passing by a waterfall and large pool on their way towards the thicket, and his experience in fishing in stiller waters was nowhere near as honed as his moving-water skills. Time to hone.
But there was something in that water which gave him the jeebies.
The sound of the waterfall crashing in his ears, which was really off-putting because it made it a little harder to hear everything else that was going on (he liked the utter silence which tended to accompany the thicket, it gave him comfort), Duckweed sat on a fallen log which overlooked the water, and peered in suspiciously. He'd caught a glimpse of something huge and thin and freaky, and it was in there somewhere, he knew it, and he wasn't going any closer until he had a better idea of which one of them - him or the lurker - was supposed to be the predator, because his carefully calculated course of action would be very different depending on that answer.