Whitefish River If that’s all/everything/more

Oh. Whoops, aha. I associate weasels more with a clay-like colour, rather than fire. ^^;;

Mouths to feed, lives to protect. They were similar in that way, but not nearly enough for her to be capable of forgiving his act. He had snuffed out a flame, caused for an ember to grow so dim that no longer could it be used to light the world. As a dragoness, she could not forgive him, no matter his reasoning for having hunted the specimen down. "There exists other prey," she'd noted, motioning then towards the river. Her mind had since began formulating a plan, a way in which she might be able to depart from the encounter with ease. If only she could lure him over, but in a manner that would not involve her own safety being put at risk. Of course, she valued her own health, and so it was currently her top priority. Protect herself, as well as escape—it seemed easy enough, but only in theory. The manner in which everything might truly play out was something that she could not predict, and so with the moment she'd gone, taking everything a single step at a time.

Carefully, the girl had stepped to the side, turning slowly so that her side was facing the river. Towards the male had she then looked, motioning towards the water once more, but this time with an invitation to approach having been extended. "Come," the chieftess voiced, encouraging him to draw nearer, but ensuring that it was always her frontal half that was facing him. "I will teach you." Of course, she wasn't the greatest at fishing, but that mattered little when her actual intentions were to do something else entirely.