Oystercatcher Tide Pools small fish circling

No need to match post length

Blackbird had marched doggedly along the coast for days, even though it was spring and she was freezing and her fur smelled of salt and seaweed. Even though there was too much sand now caked on her paws and ankles and in between her toes. Even though she knew there was no good hunting here. Occasionally, she would come across a seagull tearing into a fish on the sand and she would charge for it. She almost never made it in time, but sometimes she did, and she would gulp the fish down as quickly as she could without choking on the tiny bones, and before the gulls could peck at her too much for stealing their food.

Still, these small meals had not been enough and her senses had become dulled from hunger. There was a near-constant sting in her eyes from the salt spray. The nights were cold and there was nowhere to protect herself from the elements, no rocks to shelter behind, nothing. So she stubbornly dug in the sand, slept in the tiny indents she’d made, and continued at dawn. She didn’t know what she was looking for. She didn’t think she was looking for anything. Except food. She knew she should turn inland where it was warmer and there were rabbits or other smaller mammals to hunt, but something kept her along the coastline.

Today, her stubbornness rewarded her. It was low tide and there were tide pools stretched out before her. She came forward and a few seagulls who had been pecking at the water flew off, screeching at her angrily. She sat down and looked into the water. There were small fish swimming around, and she dropped her head, focusing on them, wondering if there was any chance of catching one…

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?”

I used the dice roll to see if she'd catch a fish. She didn't.

Blackbird’s head shot up at the sound of the chuff, and she couldn’t help the accusatory stare she gave the male, her orange eyes narrowing in annoyance. “I don’t need help,” she snapped before she could stop herself. Actually, she did need help. She needed a lot of help. She needed a pack to stay in. She needed food. And she had no idea how to catch fish. But her permanent attitude leaked through and now it was too late to retract the statement. With a flash of regret on her face, she quickly averted her gaze from the male and, without thinking about it, dropped her head into the tide pool, attempting to snap up a fish.

She came out of the water with nothing but a sopping face to show for her wasted effort. She let out a sound of annoyance and anger and resolutely turned her face from the male, feeing distinctly embarrassed.

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?”

Blackbird glanced at the white male out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge whether or not he was laughing at her. From this angle it was too hard to tell, so she gave up trying and just assumed that he probably was. She snorted in annoyance. After a moment, he asked if she was sure she didn’t need help. Even more annoyed, she opened her mouth to issue some kind of nasty retort, but closed it just as quickly. She was being stupid. This guy was offering to teach her a skill that might keep her alive. She glanced down into the tide pool again, wondering if it was even worth learning to fish if these fish were so small. It would take a lot of them to fill her belly properly. Still…

“Fine. You can help if you want,” she said finally, looking up into his face almost defiantly. So far he hadn’t tried to bite her face off for her bitchy behavior, so she was letting her attitude show a little more. “But don’t just do it for me. I want to learn how to do it myself.”

nat 20 roll = hella success catchin fish

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?”