Dragoncrest Cliffs island warfish

Hunter trade thread? @Eske @Wildfire @Blixen (Or Tirgatao) @Sirio @Dalia @Artaax

The lake has become a source of plenty now that the storm is over. The extra water made room for more fish, it seems, and as the level eventually settles, he can see the closer they get to the bank. Two fish already sit to one side, none he’s particularly seen before, the now the water has more of a salty taste than it had before. The storm washed so much ocean water inside, making it a little different than before, and he wonders if it has something to do with why he’s able to catch so many at once.
 
The water is still relaxing, most of him soaked from the thrashing each time he tries, but a hungry stomach and empty caches keep him motivated to continue his work before satisfying his own needs.

Awkward first post woo!

Sitting still was a difficult thing. The small-ish wolf wasn't often too into doing it, unless it was one of those few scenarios where it actually had its merits (i.e. naptime, bedtime, I-stubbed-my-toe-so-the-world-is-ending time, or any other scenario in which snuggles were required accompaniment). Artaax was otherwise far more inclined to be up and moving and doing, as he was currently partking in.

The boy trekked happily across the lands that belonged to his family, his gently wagging tail steering him along like a rudder as he wove between trees. He paused here and there to further inspect piles of completely mundane forest rubbish with a level of excited interest only known by those newest to the world, and a few lucky (or mentally addled) adults who managed to retain their sense of wonder in spite of how hard the world tried to jade them. It was a thrilling event for the young Goufa, and each new stick and fallen leaf made his little brows furrow with intrigue.

In all of his eagerness to explore, it didn't occur to Artaax just how far away from his siblings he had gone, nor did he realize he had found himself on a trail that took him straight to a less familiar packmate. He lifted his head to look around at his surroundings only upon realizing at the penultimate second that the crisp scent of water that permeated the air had shifted subtly away from the tangy sting of salt to a scent that was partially diluted by the smooth, fresh brush of lakewater. Clear eyes moved from water to wolf and the surprise of finding himself in these new surroundings melted to happy contentment as he strode confidently up to his packmate. Artaax remained gifted with the trusting innocence of youth that told him all individuals of his species were friends. So, he bounded right up to Arlo, tail wagging and eyes shining with amiable regard as he woofed a hello.

The way the water bounces gives Artaax away long before he hears or smells him. He doesn’t break his focus, however, until it is too obvious and the boy is excitedly jumping forward and offering his greeting. He is thankful that he is not hunting something on land for the noise would not bring back a small deer or rodent any time soon. Fish, on the other hand, have a limited space and he could, easily go elsewhere. “Heeeey ‘Taax,” he says, shushing the boy at first and turning back to see if his progress is lost. For now, it is, but he still has two to show for it.
 
“Hungry?” he asks, lowering his nose and nudging the smaller of the two forward, “we can catch some more after.”

Artaax shrank slightly as the older wolf quieted him. His ears slipped back, but his head tilted as though the weight of his curiosity dangled like a heavy earring from his left ear. He glanced at the fish with interest, but knew better than to just take it for himself. He prowled quietly forward to stand at his packmate's side, his eyes shifting from the fish to follow the line of Arlo's gaze to the water.

Artaax's eyes brightened as a meal was nudged his way. He grinned, murmured a soft thank you and dove in. He plunked himself down onto his belly and tore into the scales. He looked back up at Arlo after a few mouthfuls, his head canting again before he flushed from excitement. Fishing was not something he'd ever done before, but he had observed it ifrom afar before. The idea of getting to partake in the hunt was thrilling.

"I can help?" he asked, forgetting the meal that rested between his paws momentarily in his excitement, "Really?"

While Artaax takes to his kill, Arlo picks up the bigger of the two and devours it in two bites while the boy still pulls from his. It settles his hungry stomach, knowing there is more to come. Using the chance to feed the Heda’s child, as well as teach the future of Drageda, has been something he hasn’t really gotten the chance. Prior to coming to Drageda, he’d barely been an adult, still with plenty to learn, but he’s come full circle now as he approaches his second birthday and he has a child at his side, ready to learn
 
“Sha,” he responds quickly, licking at his lips. “Komba raun,” he instructs with a jerk of his nose in a new direction. He’d had to find a new spot, where it is shallower than where they are, and contemplates the best way to teach him. Arlo doesn’t know how much training he’s had from his parents, or anyone else for that matter, but he settles somewhere anyway. “Fishing takes patience and speed,” he begins, settling back to the common tongue. “It’s easier in streams and rivers and some tide pools in the ocean, but,” he offers a shrug and settles along the bank where there are a few lake pools in a flatter section of bank. It’s muddier than the curved bank, knowing it’ll slow the both of them down.
 
“We’ll corner them in the shallow areas once they get close enough,” he tells him, pointing with his nose for Artaax to stand close where he can jump in and force them forward.

Artaax's muzzle split into a wide grin as Arlo confirmed his hopes. He nabbed a couple more giant mouthfuls of fish as the older wolf directed him towards a new spot before hopping to all fours and trotting quickly after him. He licked his chops clean as they moved, focusing on the knowledge his packmate began to impart upon him. He was well used to games that required him to be patient, and he simply adored games that called upon his speed. He had a surprisingly large amount of the former and a little more of the latter than might be typical of one his age. However, in comparison to an older, more experienced wolf, he was quite lacking in both.

Still, the alabaster pup was determined to be awesome at this as he strode confidently toward the bank. He moved to where Arlo gestured, then stood facing the water. He shifted his stance to mirror his packmate's posture as he often did with his elders. His gaze danced over the glassy surface of the lake then, waiting quietly and patiently... For about fifteen seconds before asking, "How do we get them to come close where we can reach them?"

They both get into place. Artaax stays where he’s intended and Arlo settles in opposite him of the little pool. He’s barely gotten into position to wait, watching from the other side when the boy speaks up. His ears droop back against his head, foolish to think a child of his age has the patience for fishing. With hunting prey on the ground, or even in the sky, there’s some kind of tracking. With fishing, there’s only waiting.
 
Arlo takes a deep breath when he picks his head back up and stares from across the way. “When they come close to you, you’re going to scare them this way. It may take a while before they are comfortable swimming over here. Movement, and speech, can cause too much vibration on the ground and in the water… so you have to be quiet, too,” he tells him with a hint of a forced smile, glancing back down to the water in hopes he’ll refocus his attention on their task.

Artaax could tell he'd done something wrong, even though Arlo didn't exactly call him out on it. His ears fell slightly and he dipped his muzzle, giving an apologetic look. It disappeared shortly as the boy was swept away by the additional instructions that were provided. He gave a nod to confirm that he understood then turned back to the water's surface. He tensed his muscles as he stood, determined to remain completely still and silent so as not to scare the fish away again. He was going to do this right, and he was going to do this well, and then all of the pack would gather round and cheer for him and praise him and it would be awesome.

The boy doesn’t say anything again and gets in to place to prepare. Sometimes it takes a few minutes, sometimes it takes even longer. Some methods of hunting require longer than usual patience and he’s always found an ease to fishing once you get the hang of it. With a swish of his tail, he inhales a slow breath and exhales it even slower as he watches the change in the surface. Quietly, barely above a whisper, “the fish will come this way and when it is by you, you stand in the way.”
 
At first, he doesn’t think the fish will take the bait to wade through the nature-made tide pool. The dip in the bank goes down, making it difficult to get back when scared to the other side. When it does, Arlo does not wait for Artaax to move and get in the way when he charges through the water, snapping through to clamp the fish between his teeth so long as its kept in range.

The waiting game continued, and Artaax found himself straining to remain still and patient. He may have given up were he on his own. He preferred more active game that he could trail through the trees and not have his ability to move so restricted. He loved hunting, but fishing was boring and stupid and frustrating and annoying and...

Artaax had stopped paying attention, and so Arlo's movement took his by surprise. He started on the riverbank and whipped his head after the older male, tensing as he hurried to catch up mentally to what was happening. He saw his packmate dive and finally realized what he ought to be doing. He bounced into the water after the Gona, snapping his own teeth at the water even though there were no fish there. Still, he persisted in splashing about, trying to scare fish towards Arlo even though he couldn't even see them beneath the crisp waves he created.

Having not expected much from Artaax during the dive, he simply snaps his jaws until he feels the tender meat give ‘way to piercing teeth. It is big enough that his teeth don’t come together, reaching out either side of his muzzle comically, but it only thrashes a little while longer before he nearly tears the fish in two. Between the two of them, he’d managed to acquire a rather large catch and after he spits out his prize, he glances over to his companion. Uncertain he’ll get his attention any longer than he’s been given, he shakes out the water from his fur and turns his focus to the boy. “Who should we offer this to?” he asks, hoping to give some credit to the goufa for show.

Artaax's heart was pounding as the hunt came to a close. He hadn't been successful in catching a fish for himself. Really, all he'd done was splash around and swallow a few mouthfuls of lake. But, the fact that Arlo had accomplished their goal made the boy grin with pleasure and pride at the part he's played - assuming he had been at all helpful.

The pup answered the question posed swiftly and without hesitation. "let's give it to mom!" he replied with a wagging tail before pausing to add in a very serious tone, "But Nomi has to be there." He wanted to show off to both parents, but it was Wildfire who would be given the catch. That way Nomi would see his skill and generosity and be pleased with how he took care of his fire-touched mom, just like Thur was always doing for he whole pack.

Artaax announces who it will go to, followed by the audience, and he gives the boy a smile. “All right, can you carry it?” he asks, taking a step back to let him pick up the fish for himself. He doesn’t mind that his work go to the Heda’s mate, especially to begin regaining her strength back after arrying several healthy children. “Komba,” he beckons and leads the boy back to Hougeda to find his parents.