Thoura just wanted to enjoy herself, that's all. Was that too much to ask, summer here and all. The green already starting to burn out of the grass and the leaves. Everything getting that white-out feel when the sun gets too bright.

And that's when they come. Tramping and shouting, splashing in the pond out back. Her pond. Her fish. She and the other little ones had to eat and the tourists scaring dinner away. Made it hard to find stuff to eat. Made the days arduous. That's what mom would have said. But Mom was gone. Long gone. Just her and the little ones now, hungry sweet little buggers. And Thoura just wanting to enjoy the beginning of summer here before it got too hot and the fish swam down down too deep to eat and before the real work of hunting began.

She sharpened the knife and eyed the tourists, flattening the good tasty weeds along with the grass. There went another hour of rest to a walk towards the Old Pond, up hill and over a ways. Thoura grumbled and stood, hiding the knife flash with her body.

They wouldn't be ruining these last few easy weeks. Hardship enough without these troubles.