It was cold and wet with falling slush. The creek had broken away in its frozen places and the water flowed freely, swiftly, dangerously through the pack.
Swordfish hung on the edge of the water with a heavy-lidded stare. He could see fish in there. Their scales glittered against the light that shined through the clouds. They were quick beneath the surface of the creek. Their bodies would glide forward and then to the side, faster than he could keep track of. The young wolf stood for a long while and observed them. He thought of Suzu and their fish trap.
The youthful man stared at the creek—something Akavir caught himself doing from time to time as well, given the mesmerizing turbulence of the rushing waters. Champagne eyes skimmed over the boy, noting his injuries were healing—and the frost-tipped man had noted Shardik’s scent upon the borders, tending to duty along with his mentor.
Drawing up to the young man’s side—still a respectful distance, Akavir canted his muzzle lightly in way of a quiet greeting, his own gaze falling upon the flash of scales in the creek waters. “Do you fish much?”
The dark man approached, keeping a reasonable distance. Swordfish turned his eyes to the rough fur around Akavir’s shoulders and neck. The leader’s champagne gaze was drawn to the slick fish in the water. He asked if the boy had fished much.
Swordfish didn’t know how to respond without revealing his origins. It wouldn’t do well to have multiple lies that he needed to keep track of. He struggled with carrying the alias of the bear. He wished that he could confess his story to the man beside him. Wishes didn’t serve a purpose, though. He needed to learn to fight. He needed to kill the bear.
Some. Made a fish trap in my old home. It did all the work fer us. Dunno if I can make one here. Waters run quick,
he answered in his lazy brogue.
Akavir listened—his interest piqued as he considered the potential of what Shardik spoke. “Can you try?” He paused—casting a sideways glance to the youthful boy. “Don’t risk yourself or others to set it up—those waters can be vicious… But if we can get something started, that…” He paused, searching for the word. “Well, let’s just say there will be more mouths to feed, soon.”
“Arric or I could help. Or Moss… Bellatrix.” Invention had never been the strong suit of the Mayfair—so of course he was intrigued. “How did your old one work?”
The young wolf was surprised that his answer had inspired such interest. Akavir asked if he might try to recreate the trap in the creek. He said that there would be many mouths for them to feed. Swordfish imagined that he meant puppies. Springtime was the time for young ones to be born. It would also mark the seafarer’s first birthday. Thinking on this had cast a shadow in his heart.
Help was extended, as well as the names of several other creek wolves who could assist with crafting the trap. Hesitance hung on the edge of the redtail’s tongue. He did not want to commit to the work if it would be washed away with the melting snow.
We dragged this driftwood and wedged it between some rocks. Setup these branches that were gnarled, had lots of sticks. Tides came in and washed over the wood. When it went back out again, some of those fish didn’t figure out how to go back out with it. Got trapped in the branches. We only had to collect ‘em before the waters came back in.
It had taken a few tries before they’d collected any real spoils. The trap still worked. Thinking of Suzu created a pit in the boy’s stomach that stretched miles deep.
The youthful man explained—and Akavir remained impressed. While Shardik seemed intent on learning guardianship and fighting, it occurred to the Alpha his potential for many things—including his ingenuity.
“If you could get a few helpers and try that here, I’d love to see it—and can also help in any way,” he offered. It seemed to make the boy uncomfortable, and for now, the Mayfair allowed the conversation to drift…. But, perhaps in time, Shardik would warm to the idea.