The Heartwood things lost to the flames

His voice was soothing, deep and cultured, with an accent bordering on pretension. He was royalty, and he carried himself as such. At his touch, she looked at him, surprised, but then let her features melt into a gentle smile. "These lands have been good to me so far," Miyako said. "I haven't been attacked or made fun of, at least."

Varick pushed the fish toward her, and she smiled even wider. "We should both eat," she responded mildly. "Plenty of fish in this water for a small feast." As if summoned by her words, a particularly large specimen started to approach the shallows. Her head turned slowly until she faced the water, her body folded into a crouched position, and when the fish was close enough, she struck--but failed to grasp its slick body in her jaws.

Wrenching her head out of the water with an ungainly splash--the fish swimming away in fright--she shook her head and laughed ruefully. "Well, we'll have a small feast if we can catch the damn fish." Another fish was lurking, this one smaller than the last, but still meat. She repeated her tactics but failed again, and found herself taking a few paces back in annoyance.

She turned around to face Varick, smirking. "Not my day," Miyako chuckled, letting the water run in cool rivulets over her muzzle and down the thick ruff of her neck.