Now, standing on the shore of the lake, the timber wolf was beginning to see the flaws in her plan. From the sand and snow came a sheet of ice – under this invisible was the fish. Probably. Her brows furrowed as she stepped out daintily, and a moment later, she began to dig, claws cutting opaque lines into the surface – but nothing else. Not even a dent. After a few moments, she stopped, ankle offering a small twinge of interest. Her nose twitched and she took a step back, mouth twisting as she peered up ahead, searching the lake for open water.
Further out, something was moving. Her tail swishing, snow falling down across her back, and she began to slide across the ice, intent on investigating whatever was ahead. Hopefully, it was some fish. Cold, slow fish.