The young pirate had ventured out beyond the bay on that day in search of unfamiliar faces, and places that he had not yet explored on the coast of the wilds. The striking figure had made his way through the dead wood of the sentinels and onto the plateau. He had trotted well and his lengthy strides had carried him down to the beach once more, in the vicinity of the tide pools. Smokestep had known tide pools to be tricky things, but had found plenty of enjoyment in searching for creatures who had been captured in the ringlets in the sand. Oftentimes, they could escape his grasp, but the yearling had also found a great deal of success in filling his caches with the life found in tide pools.
 
As he neared the location, his mismatched eyes caught sight of a dark figure. The scent that was carried to him deemed her as a newcomer – a stranger in a strange land – and he perked some at the thought of it. With his head held aloft and his tail swinging behind him, the cocksure pirate trotted toward her before chuffing lightly to announce his presence. “Ye lookin’ fer fishin’ lessons, miss?”

The dark girl was quick to snap, and Smokestep snorted indignantly. A smile curled his features some and he watched as she poised herself at the edge of the pool. In a swift motion, he watched her head bob into the water and then emerge with nothing to show for her efforts. The pirate had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold down the chuckle that had formed in the pit of his stomach. The way his eyes crinkled on either side would give him away, should she have tried hard enough to look.
 
Smokestep circled around her a short way, careful to keep his distance from her sharp tongue and teeth, and fixed her with a smug expression. His eyes danced with mischief as he looked in the pool to his right with some moderate interest. The corsair had been taught to fish and swim before he was truly capable of walking, so it felt like second nature to him. He often forgot what it was like to happen across others who had grown inland and learned a separate set of skills entirely.
 
Cocking an eyebrow, Smokestep waved his tail once before inquiring, “ye sure?”

There was a defiance in the dark girl, and while she may have been surprised that her pointed attitude had not grazed his crooked grin, it was only because she did not understand where he came from. Smokestep was fluent in the art of fiery women and the burn that their temper wrought. Growing up alongside Sandpiper, he learned to craft himself in a way that allowed for their skills to shine through and he was more than willing to allow for fierceness in such a life. It was an idea that would likely never change in him, because it afforded him so much room to grow with those who crossed his path.
 
The dark one caved after a few moments of thought, telling him that she wasn’t looking for a handout but a lesson. The pirate shrugged his shoulders and chuckled softly at the remark. “Well, I ain’t a skivvy, girlie,” he warned her, suggesting that he wasn’t in the business of working for anyone. “I’d much rather teach ye a skill than give ye one meal.” It was an age old story; teach a man to fish, right? He moved so that he was in a better position and crouched himself low enough so that his shadow was not cast over the pool. Smokestep watched with trained eyes at the circling fish.
 
“Ye’ve got to have a lick o’ patience in ye fer fishin’,” he ushered in a hushed tone. “Wait til they’re comin’ to the surface fer a bug, an then-“ he lunged forward with parted jaws and sunk his muzzle deep into the pool. Once he had pulled himself back out, a large fish was clasped between his teeth and writhing against the light of day. Smokestep bit down hard, feeling the body give beneath the strength of his jaw, and then placed the thing at his feet with a smirk.
 
“Ready?”