The scene on the taiga inspired the huntress within Druid, though she decided against returning there. Instead, she shifted her focus to her own aspiring specialty: fisher. She still had much to learn about the craft and winter presented all sorts of new opportunities, as formerly bustling waters began to freeze.
She asked
@Sequoia to come with her this cold but sunny afternoon, the two of them striding along the meandering shore of Mudminnow River. Every so often, Druid stopped to inspect and observe the waterway. It seemed the gentler eddies were locked in a sheet of ice, while the rapids continued to flow. Where she did find a layer of verglas, the thickness varied quite a bit depending on the particulars of its location.
They ranged further south than Druid had ever ventured before. She could see a forest full of towering trees ahead, though her mother told her they should turn back now and begin making their way north again. Obedient in her youth, Druid gazed longingly at the hollow for only a moment before turning to retrace their steps on the long, winding walk home.
Between the appearance of the elder Tartok and learning of Nyra's newer injuries, Kigipigak was weighted by distracting thoughts.
He was meant to take over patrolling part of the herd; but after intercepting the other hunters, managed to request further 'time off'; which was something Kigipigak had never asked before, and was out of character enough that they could not refuse.
Rather than return to either camp, Kigipigak took a day to explore the eastern valley, and soon found his way to the outskirts of Rivenwood. He knew it well enough from memory, as he had helped to take the bypass for Mahler many months ago; but he did not think about any of this as he went, his mind a tumult of Tartok-related worries.
When he did stop it was to seek out the frigid waters of the Mudminnow, and as he loomed over its surface to drink, Kigipigak thought he felt a presence. There was the sound of movement in the snow but because of the river's bottlenecked rapids, he struggled to pinpoint the direction it came from.
As they approached the familiar stone arches of the bypass, Druid said to her mother, You go on ahead. I think I’m going to stay here and practice fishing for a little bit.
They pecked one another on the cheek and then Sequoia moseyed the rest of the way home, leaving her daughter to scan the nearby river.
She decided to venture a little further east, then as she came around the river bend, she saw a white figure upstream. Druid immediately halted and studied him from afar, though it quickly dawned on her: she’d seen this man before. It took her a moment to recollect, He was the hunter with Nyra…
Slightly emboldened by their passing familiarity, Druid approached with a quiet, Hello again.
Wreathed in the scent of her mother, Kigipigak was distracted when he first laid eyes upon the girl, thinking it was Sequoia.
He had not seen her in some time and had forgotten her distinctive appearance; but within moments, as the two looked upon one another, he did recognize her as one of the girl children watching the herd.
His interest waned slightly. She offered a greeting and he chuffed a low sound, likely swallowed by the rapids and their churning. I greet you.
A moment later: I did not know you were of Rivenwood when you came to the camp.
Yes, I’m Druid of Rivenwood,
she replied simply. What’s your name?
They hadn’t gotten around to introductions that day, with both caribou and wolves bustling about everywhere.
She wondered if he’d seen Heda lately, though something stopped Druid from inquiring about he sister. Instead, she wondered, You hunt caribou. Do you also hunt small game? Like fish?
Kigipigak.
He answered.
She did not have a northern name, despite looking much like the creatures that lived in the sea by his first home. The scent of Sequoia was strong around her still and that gave Kigipigak many thoughts; but he was glad, also, because he knew Sequoia was strong and so her daughter must follow the same path.
He regarded her a moment.
I hunt everything! Are you more a fish-woman, then? You did not appear interested in the caribou before. Not like your friend.
He smiled toothily, and looked out over the rapids.
He declared that he hunted everything, then in the next breath asked if she was a fisher. Druid’s lips parted to respond, only to press together again when he made a remark about her that rubbed her the wrong way a little bit.
I was interested,
she replied defensively, though admittedly not as gung ho as Heda. I learned a lot from observing. I didn’t want to get too close before I knew what I was getting into,
she added a bit more calmly, brow scrunching a bit. Hadn’t he been of the same mind, at the time?
He laughed lightly. Ah! The wise one of the group. You and the other, the little red girl, were both reluctant. It was very smart.
Kigipigak had decided earlier that the trio were unfit for hunting, being young and being women, and he was glad when they had accepted his counsel and departed.
However, he missed the way the girl bristled now and grew irritated by his voice. The river was much too loud and Kigipigak did not have the inclination to listen close.
Fishing is a good vocation. Many people live off of fish alone, as it is a plentiful resource. You do not have to wait for them to herd together like caribou.
He began to move along the riverside then, at a pace for her to follow if she wished.
The rapids remained loud but he hoped to put them at a distance.
Your mother is Sequoia, I presume. Did she teach you?
His compliment on her intelligence placated her somewhat, though she also rankled at the implication about Heda. Druid was forced to admit—with utmost fondness, always—that her sister had been a little reckless.
Kigipigak dropped the subject and Druid followed suit, listening closely as he spoke of the merits of fishing. Do fish sometimes form herds?
she wondered, having never witnessed a school before.
She shadowed his steps as he walked along the riverside. Druid could only hope he meant to show her a thing or two, otherwise she didn’t have any particular interest in accompanying him anywhere.
His question made her pause and look at him in mild surprise. Yes, Sequoia is my mother. How did you know that?
Druid forgot to answer the second part, her mismatched eyes boring into the side of Kigipigak’s face.
He settled at the edge of the water like a sentinel. The shallows extended to the right, while the river swelled to the left and moved along in t rapids and the first bend.
You carry her with you,
Kigipigak murmured, his eyes lit with good humor. I lived among Rivenwood once, before I became a hunter for Moonglow. The winter before this season was very hard.
It was all he would share.
Do you see where the water thins?
He motioned out to the shallows where there was more ice than anything, although further out from that the ice was very fragile and the water clearly moved with a pulse.
The fish in this season are very slow, like they sleep through the cold. When it warms in the spring you will see many fish together, in the water. A herd of them darting very fast.
She squinted at his answer. Of course, it made sense that she might smell of her mother, though there was something disquieting about strangers knowing things about her that she herself did not mean to tell them.
Druid let it go, focusing on Kigipigak’s words as he positioned himself on the bank and began gesturing as he spoke. She listened astutely, looking everywhere he pointed. She nodded.
Slower works better for me,
she murmured, mostly to herself. Is there anything to catch here?
Druid added more loudly, wondering if he’d spotted any fish in the icy waters.
It was his first time in many season that he had resorted to fishing, and perhaps the first time all year he had fished in this body of water. Her question brought a rise to his brow.
We will have to see.
Kigipigak said, and observed the flow from solid ground. He did not speak for some minutes.
Very little happened then. The water flowed where the ice did not cover it, meanwhile where the ice was thick it sort-of groaned and creaked. The clouds shifted overhead; not even a bird called.
Far from shore something did move against the current — and that earned a glance from Kigipigak, but he then sighed, recognizing the slippery shape of a river otter playing so far out that neither wolf could reach.
I do not think there will be any fishing today. Being patient and quiet usually helps, but when those tricksters are around, the fish become extra wary.
She knew how much patience fishing often required, so she merely nodded and settled in to wait. Druid’s mother and sisters had occasionally accompanied her during these long periods of quiet stillness and she’d never felt a moment’s awkwardness. But she felt a strange tension in the silence between herself and this man which discomfited her.
The sight of an otter frolicking in the distance distracted her momentarily and she felt a thrill of excitement just watching it. Neither wolf had any hope of capturing it, yet Druid could still imagine what it would be like to catch such a prize. Fish were difficult to catch, though an otter seemed impossible.
After more lengthy, cumbrous silence, Kigipigak admitted defeat. Druid could only nod in relief and bounce up onto her heels, suddenly eager to depart. He didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know, though there was a beat of confusion at the word “trickster” before she realized he meant the otter.
That’s the way it goes sometimes,
Druid agreed readily enough. I should get going.
Even as she spoke, she began to turn away, though she glanced over a Kigipigak and added, If you see my sister, tell her I miss her. And to be careful.
A small smile flickered across the youth’s hoary face and then she swiftly disembarked for Rivenwood.