The Heartwood Branching out

In the interest of leaving things up to chance, I'm going to use dice rolls to determine whether or not Kelso catches anything. :)

He saw the way her body tensed and how her eyes -- a lovely, bewitching shade of amber, he noted -- became wary and suspicious.  He understood.  It was to be expected under even the best of conditions.  In these bleak circumstances, mistrust was even more warranted.  Were he a greedier wolf, perhaps, she would have valid reason to be cautious.  But Kelso was not like that.  Sure, those basic instincts that governed natural selection were there, but he had been raised in a pack where everyone was cared for.  Every wolf was given its fair share, especially those who helped bring down the meal.

Her question was concise and to the point.  And unfortunately, he had nothing but bad news.  "Nothing," he replied with a shrug, his eyes falling to the surface of the river that flowed alongside them.  Something had flashed and caught his attention, though it might have been a figment of his imagination.  "We could hunt together, if you're willing.  I'm happy to share."  Another quick flash grabbed his eye and then he saw it: the silvery shape of a trout darted past them and was gone.  There weren't many of them at all -- maybe two or three at most -- but it was the most prey action of any kind that he'd seen since his arrival in the Wilds.  "Huh.  Fish," he commented, feeling like a moron.  "Why didn't I think of that?"