Whitefish River catch of the day

Though he still picked away at the fish, Mordecai wasn't about to turn down a gift. It was impolite and in light of being in pleasant company, he wouldn't do any wrong if he could help it. And since a little history rolled out across their proverbial table, Mordecai couldn't help but not be surprised by such a thing. He wondered though, did the wolves along the ocean try and fish as well? It had never quite occurred to him before, but then again, he had never lived along the coastline at any point in his travels.

"I'm Mordecai," he offered in return when their introductions came about. "And like I said, fish isn't bad. It's actually kind of a nice change from my usual fare of meals." And as of late, he hadn't really been hunting for himself. There was a modicum of guilt lingering for simply taking from caches rather than contributing to them, but Mordecai didn't feel entirely comfortable yet trying to test out the limits of his worn body. Rest came first and foremost, which he had been acquiring copious amounts of.

"So are you from around here, Luke?" Though he couldn't discern any trace of a pack on him, Mordecai chalked it up to the fact that his new found companion had been in the cool waters at length. If nothing else, water was good for washing out the lingering traces of where they had been, and at times, where they came from.