Duck, duck, goose (Open)

It was early morning when he willowy vixen would creep from the tree line and slowly, cautiously, across one of the small wooden bridges out to the small man made island in the middle. Several ducks had bedded down and given the season many were with eggs. It was just a matter of being unnoticed and waiting until the mother slipped away to get a drink or bite of food. She had been playing this little game of roulette for days now. So far she had found two nests on the island and cabbaged on the delicious treats they held. Then crept away before the parents could alert the angry geese that patrolled the water like sentinels.
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As soon as one of her feathered ivory feet stepped off the aging wood she fell down to her stomach. Slowly crawling amidst the long grasses and overgrown bushes. One disadvantage to her coloration was that it made her rather easy to differentiate in any terrain other than deep snow. She was starving, and looking at her one might assume she was emaciated. But it wasn’t true. She had a runners frame, one that many dogs with bloodlines like herself boasted. She had done well enough for herself. Scavenging and being the opportunist. Large prey would be too powerful for her to take down alone, along with the danger of breaking a limb in a struggle. A death sentence for a lone canine like herself.
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Her pink tongue slid over her whiskers as her chin settled down against the cool earth that was still covered in morning dew. Long white tassels that hung from her ears spreading around her head like the small wings of a dove. Patience. That was the name of this game. She just had to wait for the soft splash of fowl entering the lake. Her long fluffy tail lay straight behind her flat against the earth. Everything about the vixen was still. Only the soft expansion of the barrel of her ribcage indicated she still lived.
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It was by chance that one of the mother ducks rising from her brood would waddle across the alabaster dogs path. Her little brown marbled body waddling to and fro until she froze, staring at the unmoving predator with a soft grunt. Alabaster didn’t move, at least not intentionally. But the sight of the bird was unexpected. Exciting. Her fluffy ears perked forward with interest, the only part of her body she couldn’t control in that moment. And that was things went downhill.
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The duck nearly fell over itself as it struggled to run back to it’s nest. Its loud terrified quacks waking the other birds and drawing the attention of the large geese that had been milling about peacefully. Alabaster knew the game was over and slowly began to get up, trying not to draw even more attention to herself. That was until one of the large geese waddled up on next to her on the island. Head dropping low with a loud hiss the goose ran at her making all sorts of a commotion. Alabaster backpedaled as fast as she could. Tripping over her long limbs like a young gangly pup as she tried to escape the terrifying bird.
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The beast managed to grab a beak full of skin and pinched down. Alabaster yelped and yipped frantically. Kicking and scrambling away, or at least trying to. But it was hard when the goose had a big hunk of her skin lifted up from her back and pinched. She tried to curl into herself like a fiddlehead fern, whimpering and yipping all the while. It hardly appeased the guardian bird, but it did release her as it went in for a smack from its wing. It was her chance!
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Alabaster leapt to her feet and ran as fast as her long legs could take her across the bridge. The angry goose in hot pursuit albeit at a slower speed.