Broken Antler Fen Venus in Furs

The silver leader offered encouraging words. After all, that was all he could do for his people. Their scouts, Valtyr included, had ranged far and wide to provide for the pack. Little reward came of their efforts, however. A small rabbit here... a meager vole there... day by day the pack grew more lean. Yet, the Sveijarn could appreciate the good position the pack was in despite nature's adversity. They had no pups and no elderly. Every member was a strong and willing contributor. Plus, the terrain of the Fen meant easy access to water. Valtyr was not a skilled fisherman by any measure. A life in the hills meant he had never mastered the skill, and thus didn't attempt a catch in front of anyone (his ego had suffered enough!). So, when Sebastian mentioned Fisherman's Fen Valtyr's weight shifted encomfortably... though he tried to play it off as casually as possible. "Ohh Yeaahhh," he said as if he had forgotten about fish as a mean of food altogether (when clearly, he had not). "Fish. Fish are delicious," he commented, almost like a mantra to work himself up to going... perhaps he could persude Sebastian to go with him and show the finer details of the sport. He would have to do it subtly, though. The Fen's Kind just couldn't know how terrible of a fisher Valtyr truly was. "Okay. I'll go. Perhaps you'd like to come with me? Two bros catching lunch," he said with a grin to try and make the idea sound appealing and mask his alterior motive.