It was an unremarkable silver glimmer, some nodescript trout that might have lasted longer if the wolf was less experienced or if she had not learned from her betters. A pair of black paws settled in the silt; the fish twisted a few times while the wolf stood there, letting blood drip from the puncture of its teeth, until everything was still again.
She withdrew with her catch and began to strip the scales from the trout's body with her teeth. This wasn't as expertly done; Sanja was often too impatient to properly clean her catches, which was detrimental if you've ever had a scale catch in your gums (unpleasant). Before long the trout would begin to stink, so she had to be quick.
a dark fisher.
she worked quick, skillful. ikniqpalagaq watched thoughtfully. enchanted and entranced. then the dark fisher set to work again, skinning the catch.
you are very good at this,
she hummed with warmth, as she slowly approached.
The meat slipped from the bone with lengthy tears. Blood did not spill until she cut in to the belly; and this only happened because a voice startled her. The errant tooth ripped a small sack organ from the fish and black oozed free.
Ég á þetta.
The wolf lifted her head to stare at the stranger and saw it was an older wolf, and while they kept their distance they watched her meal.
Blood stained the fisherwolf's lips but she did not clean them, lest it be taken as submission.
the woman spoke.
it was a tongue that she did not recognize. more newness greeted her in these lands. ikniqpalagaq had no qualms discussing via body language, as much as they could, of course.
she would keep her distance, lowering some and staying to the outskirts of the woman's space.
she had only wished to give compliments, not take meals.
The stranger did not speak. They only reacted after Sanja's own warning, and it was to back away. If they held any desire for the meal that the wolf had caught, there was no indication of it - which could have been a ruse.
Mother would had taken the fish and run by now. Father might have fought for it first. As a distillation of the two of them, Sanja was at a loss for what to choose. She thought for a moment longer and then, drawing her tongue across her lips, began to pick at the meal again.
Her ears pivoted to track the older woman warily.
she would keep her distance through it all. happy to lounge down the bay, patient and eyes averted away from the feasting woman. the shimmer of the water enough to keep her entranced.
she did not not know if the other woman would even wish to engage any further.
perhaps they would merely be passing strangers in this moment as their only memory of each other. it was enough for ikniqpalagaq, if it was enough for the fisher.
The older woman left her alone. Sanja ate quickly. She cut the meat from the fish and slurped up whatever leaked from its belly so quick that she ended up gagging on a patch of scales that she'd forgotten to pull free earlier.
That wasn't the greatest moment. Not impressive in the slightest. But, Sanja spat out the wad of skin and scales. She no longer had an appetite and the rest of the fish sat before her, half eaten.
Kona, hér-- fiskur. Fiskur? Já?
Treading carefully over the remains of the fish and the ream of skin she'd partially vomited in to the dirt, Sanja moved along so that there was ample distance between them.