Morningside Cuesta sky watcher

He could only chuckle in reply to her teasing. “Some lucky beaver would be glad to have it. I’m sure.” The two of them sat, quietly focusing on the water. The bubbling of the stream was calming, and the red and orange hues of the sky turning the ice the same colors. As the sun continued to rise, it shone on the now glimmering ice, and soon, a fish would swim by. Right before, he turned his head back to Vale, whose coat was beautifully bathed in the orange light, and all he could do, almost unconsciously stare, in a kind way. He then answered her question, and a good one it was: “I grew up eating salmon, mostly, some trout. But this place, this place seems like prime catfish habitat. As for fish that one cannot eat, I am not sure.”

Just then, a glimmer and shifting of sediment caught his attention, and swiftly snapping his muzzle down into the water, he proudly brought up a plump catfish, roughly 3 pounds, if wolves understood weight and measurements.

He set it down between he and Vale. “Prime specimen I would suppose.”