Sawtooth Spire i need to witness miracles today

a random fishing thread appears! open for anyone but maybe a(n) (aspiring) hunter? :D

despite wintersbane's hesitation on his fishing skills, the morning is proving to be rather bountiful. three fish lay flopping on the bank of windholme — far enough away that they can't flop back into the river. wintersbane stands in a shallower part of the river, muscles coiled tight in taut anticipation as he focuses his glacial gaze upon the rushing waters at the gleam of scales swimming against the riverflow. his time in enok tundra, though brief, had made ...well something of a fisherman out of him, though he was far from the mastery of skill that his tundrian brethren showcase.

still, three was a fair number even if it took him the better part of the morning to accomplish.

his jaws part as a fish swims nearer and as it begins to dart away, wintersbane pounces upon it, jaws locking against it the thrashing fish. they're stronger than they appear, slippery too but he clamps down tighter, ignoring the sting as its tail whacks against his muzzle. his prize still flapping in his grasp, wintersbane lopes out of the river and tosses his last catch amongst the others and takes a moment too study his accomplishment with a small swell of pride beneath his breast.

Quell's eyes glimmered with merriment when she came over a slope and saw her father fishing in the river down below. Without hesitation, she loped downhill, screeching to a halt even as the Eisen waded onto the bank and tossed down a fourth fish. The youth's eyes widened at the bounty, duly impressed.

"Teach me your ways," Quellcrist murmured, wondering how exactly he approached it. She wasn't particularly keen on fishing like an otter today, not after catching such a terrible chill the last time, and Wintersbane looked dry aside from his legs. Whatever method he used appeared to be quite successful, so the young fisher was eager to add another technique to her repertoire.

the sound of footfalls is heard by the tundrian over the rush of the windholme but unbothered, wintersbane only looks up when the sound of a familiar voice lulls him from his concentration. unsurprised to find his daughter standing on the bank of the river staring at him. ❝q.❞ wintersbane rumbles in warm greeting. ❝the tundrians of enok tundra can do much better than me.❞ wintersbane informs her humbly, twitching for a moment as he contemplates whether to remain and see if he can catch anything else or if he should join her upon the shore. despite his breaks in between there is a chill of numbness creeping into his toes and on a last moment decision he wades thru the water to join his daughter upon the bank.

❝their approach to fishing is patience ...and to fish like a bear.❞ though wintersbane wasn't super keen on patience — though he was so much better with it than he'd been as a firecracker cub — he couldn't deny that despite the lengthy time it took to accomplish a decent haul it provided results.

He said something about tundras, though Quell's main takeaway was that her father was downplaying his skills. She made a pssshhht noise and clicked her tongue at him, though before she could insist that he clearly had mad skills, he revealed the secret of his success.

"Got it. Fish like a bear," the adolescent said. "Fish like a bear," she repeated, pausing before muttering under her breath, "The fuck is a bear?" For someone who loved studying (and killing and eating) wildlife, Quell had somehow never heard of or seen a bear before.

for a brief moment wintersbane falters at how to answer, when quellcrist first repeats his words of wisdom and then asks him what a bear was — in a course language that makes him lightly bite back the chiding he wants to give her thru rapidly growing paternal instincts. admittedly, he assumed that she knows what a bear was at the very least. ❝very dangerous, powerful creatures. they are varying sizes but easily larger than any wolf regardless,❞ it seems prudent to him to at first warn her not to purposefully go seeking one out — especially now when they're probably waking from hibernation. ❝but if anything can be said about them, they're expert fishers.❞

with his tone, wintersbane tries to impart upon his daughter that being expert fishers doesn't mean they are by any means approachable, because though he is sure she is capable of taking care of herself, she's still his daughter and he very much cares about what happens to her.

❝they wade into the shallower parts of the river, wait and strike their targets. sometimes, if they're lucky, fish'll even jump out of the rivers and if they are quick enough they can catch them that way. the wolves of your grandmother's homeland have adopted these techniques as their own. it can be slow at times but effective on most days.❞ an idle gesture of his muzzle is given towards his small pile of fish.

❝if i had to choose, i'd much prefer deer to fish.❞ but wintersbane has never been a real big fan of water activities. such things had always been his twin's fancies.

Wait, that was a lie! Quell knew a saying about bears: they evidently shat in the woods. But that summed up her knowledge about them. Fortunately, her father filled in the blanks, describing bears as large, dangerous creatures who preferred a diet of fish. Her lips parted, wondering why they didn't shit in rivers, then.

Wintersbane didn't stop there, continuing on to tell her how the bears did it, a trick which his ancestors had evidently borrowed. Her head cocked as she recalled the many times when Frolic had tossed a fish out of the water toward her. Was that why the fish in her dad's tale leaped too? Was there a secret symbiotic relationship between otters and bears, pitchers and catchers? If so, what did the otters get out of it? Perhaps the bears provided them protection? Perhaps that was why the bears didn't shit in the water...?

Quell huffed a laugh, catching her silly train of thought and shaking her head. At her father's last comment, she admitted, "Fish is tops for me, followed by anything small, cute and fluffy—otters aside." She idly wondered if Wintersbane would ever want to meet Frolic, though she didn't mention it just now, because there was something else on her mind. "I don't eat much large game. I had an... accident during my first big game hunt at Warsaw. I was told never to risk it again, 'cause a second kick would totes finish me." She said this lightly, not wanting to bring down the room, but it was probably best that her leaders knew about this "defect."

in their food preferences him and quellcrist couldn't be much different, wintersbane learns. her preference for fish, he reminds himself, makes sense given she'd been born to the coast. he, thankfully, had not. though the strath had had numerous fresh water sources he hadn't relied upon the scaled water beasts for nourishment ...nor in any of the other places he had spent time with. it is, however, the reason she gives that gives the tundrian pause. he peers at her as she tells him her story; vague but with enough information that leaves him with a small hitch in his throat. the thought of losing her hurts him.

❝i'm sorry,❞ he offers in a quiet rumble for lack of anything else to say. comforting wasn't his strong suit. ❝i'll discreetly pass along the information to wylla and mahler so they don't expect you to partake in group hunts. when we have them perhaps you can contribute with fish.❞ he gestures with a swing of his muzzle towards the lake. regardless of what anyone else said or thought, wintersbane's decree was final. he wasn't going to risk his daughter's life and that was that.

He expressed his condolences and Quell smiled and waved a paw dismissively, preparing to make some offhanded quip or another when he went on to say he would inform the other leaders and let her off the hook to avoid any unnecessary risks. She put her paw back on the ground and regarded him quietly for a beat, touched that he would take this stance, though not surprised. They didn't know one another that well, though he had stepped readily into his role and it was such a fatherly offer to make.

"Happy to! Thanks, pops," Q chirped, considering forcing another hug on him. She snorted at the recollection of their last endearingly awkward embrace and decided she would let him off the hook too. Instead of a hug, she simply curled her toes into an imitation of a fist and gave his shoulder a gentle love tap. Her lavender eyes shone, then danced as she couldn't quite help but tease, "So, you gonna show me how it's done or are we gonna stand around having chick flick moments all day?"