Sheepeater Cliff Bighorn Country

While he outlined the rules for this engagement, Njal watched the water flow by. It caught the light - what little there was due to cloud cover - and kept his ears alert for sounds. He could hear Bazi as she moved, and the shifting white of her mass was highlighted in the edge of his vision. When she was in place, the man opened his mouth as if to prompt the start of the game - but Bazi beat him to it. At her ready he lowered his head, poised above the gushing water while his eyes traced the deep rocks for signs of life. "Go!"

At first there was stillness from him. Energy bubbled through his body as he waited for a target, although Njal was adept at keeping himself composed - especially when fishing. This was his vocation; this was what he did every day of his life. There was a darkness motioning beneath the surface, but it was quick. A fat and slick dart moved beneath his waiting muzzle, and he dived in to grab at it. Teeth were shocked with cold as they connected with the water and Njal tasted the river; silt tickled his tongue, but only for a moment.

His head was up again, and down again. Bobbing and snapping, pulling and tossing; the body of one writhing fish suspended briefly, then returned to it's habitat despite the great effort it posed to fight instinct. Five minutes? Maybe it had been so long. Sucked in to the world of fish, Njal paid no attention to the time at all.

With his tongue sliding across his lips, Njal took a moment to peer across to Bazi; he watched her move, eyeing the writhing creatures that she caught. A brief look to the bank soured his mood - for there were scant fish to be seen. It looked as if he would fail in this endeavor, and be tossed aside as the King of Fish.

Caught: 2