the stream was swollen past its usual banks because of all the rain the past moon, and only now was it beginning to recede some. still, it was a bounty—the fish were loving the extra swimming room. they proliferated especially in the slower-moving pools, circling each other with no apparent purpose.
cam, however, did have a purpose. but he wasn't really living up to it today.
pah!
he gasped, flinging his head from the water and cursing as he remained empty-jawed. he thought he'd been close, but there wasn't even a bit of fin to show for his effort. no, the quarry flitted away, taking with it friends and family alike. he glared at their retreat, shaking the cool droplets from his chin and throat.
he would try until he caught something to eat. . .or, really, until he got frustrated. which might come sooner than later, given his luck.
The ashen'furred male was not the only one who'd taken advantage of the fish that had begun to make their pilgrimmage up the stream that ran through their forest. They'd gathered in pools, and flowed through areas which might've been a challenge to them had the waters not been so swollen from the rains. Jackalope- opportunistic at best, but otherwise quite a bit too lazy to expend a great deal hunting and chasing something down- had been relying on his fishing skills for days now, and found that it suited him just fine. Now that he could breathe through his nose again- albeit with a bit of a whistle- it was significantly easier for him to lean into his role as a fisher.
He'd caught a nice rainbow trout, and was padding along the stream's edge to check out other pools when he heard a splash, and looked up to see a dark furred yearling watching the waters with some contempt. Obviously, he'd had no luck. Jackalope uttered a muffled bark over the hefty, 16" fish he touted, before he set it down, sat down, and before he began eating- as he wanted to watch every minute of the potential spectacle- he snickered. "You have to sing to them." He drawled, and began tearing into his fresh, delicious catch.
the voice, and its accompanying owner, was a little like salt in a wound. cam watched somewhat grumpily as the man tucked into the fish—a huge catch. he was undoubtedly envious, but decided to address the strange words instead.
sing to them?
he asked, cocking a brow. it sounded ridiculous, even to a young man who liked to dabble in the absurd. like. . .sing to them?
how would singing to a fish help? he had been taught to remain quiet, to let the fish come unawares to him. singing seemed counterproductive. but this wolf—neverwinter by his scent, though cam had only seen him in passing—clearly was successful in his efforts.
if he was singing to the fish, and they were leaping into his mouth, cam wanted to know his secret.
Rolling his eyes, Jackalope regarded the dark yearling, who now watched him with disbelief. "D-d-did I stutter?" He asked, paused, and then cackled with a dry voice as he pulled a strip of shimmery skin from the fish, flicked his head back and caught the morsel in the air. He made a noisy show of chomping on it a few times, before he swallowed loudly, and licked his lips.
"Yes, sing to them. Fish love singing." He insisted, before he gestured back to the waters, as though to return his attention to what should have been, a captive audience of fish swimming in the shallows.