Lost Creek Hollow fishay fishay

I wasn't clear sorry, lol. No need to rewrite.

He snuck his blue tongue out between his incisors in response to the appearance of her own, before shifting his attention to the stream. "Watch," he whispered. It was demonstration time, and he began right where he was, laying his paws down softly as he stole toward the water. He stepped in with such precision and grace that barely a ripple formed around his legs as one paw after another descended to the cobble on the stream bed. He took a position at the rim of a small shallow pool, so that the sun cast his shadow toward the banks and not across the water as he had instructed.

He was silent for some time, as now was when patience became necessary. Beneath the surface of the stream a small school of white suckers, a type of bottom feeding fish, circled. These were an excellent training fish. They often swam rather than lying in wait, and were less slippery than trout and not nearly as skittish. The blue-nosed wolf was still and silent as the school made their way toward him. He tensed, lowering himself closer to the water, and once the fish were in range he struck. Luke was like a coiled snake, precisely striking at his prey and grasping it with his canines.

He returned to the bank, grinning, and dropped the slain fish on the ground. "Your turn," he invited, gesturing toward the stream with his muzzle, hoping that his demonstration was sufficient in lieu of a slew of verbal direction.