Whitewater Gorge Boys workin' on empty

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Njal caught his first fish, then Mazi her second. They had put together a respectable pile of fish, here. While it was a pittance compared to the meat a larger animal provided, it did no good thinking about the what ifs, and it was food for the pups, and for pregnant Eshe. "Buíochas le Dia," Faolán whispered, smiling at their haul.

It was his turn again. After waiting for the ripples from Mazi's kill to clear, he approached the water, his black muzzle hovering just above the surface. When one of the silvery creatures got close, lured into inaction by some intrigue down there, he struck, pushing his head in jaws first. They snapped together in what he thought would be another successful grab, but he emerged empty-mouthed, with only a shred of tailfin dangling from one of his fangs.

Faolán spit the small silvery scrap of skin out in slight irritation, taking a step back to shake his fur clear of water so as not to spray his companions. The comedian in him racked his brain for some tail-related pun to throw out, but he soon gave up, frustration and hunger outweighing his good humor, for once. "Your turn," he said to Njal, waiting for the big gray to try for another fish.