She merely shook her head and smiled a small, knowing smile at the squeaked assurances that the frolicking was fun, although she pondered for a moment that perhaps she was missing out, watching from afar. She mused - perhaps loud enough for her acquaintances to hear, perhaps not - that she had frolicked once or twice, and that had sated her appetite for ponds. Puddles were quite enough for her these days.
Still, she grinned and waved and showed her appreciation of the fluttering and splashing shenanigans that she witnessed. Occasionally she prodded at the small ripples by her feet. Whenever she looked up again, there seemed to be fewer ducklings in the pond, though there was just as much noise and movement. Sometimes she would see an unlucky duckling being pulled under, caught by their leg and gone with a splash of terror that went unnoticed amongst the other splashes. Sometimes a feather or two managed to escape, and would swim to the edge of the pond to hide amongst the weeds.
Soon there only a couple of ducklings left. They still invited her in to play, although they played with one eye over their shoulder. Again and again she refused with half a smile and apologetic eyes. There was never enough time to utter a warning, although she was never surprised like the ambushed ducklings were. Two ducklings remained, paddling together and snapping playfully at each other. Furtive glances and giggled secrets that only they cared about were passed between them. They went down together, pulled under by something they quietly feared but never thought would happen to them. She watched the water flatten, having feasted on her friends, devouring them whole.
Yes, she nodded, as she turned to waddle away. Puddles are quite enough for me.