Dragoncrest Cliffs island warfish

They both get into place. Artaax stays where he’s intended and Arlo settles in opposite him of the little pool. He’s barely gotten into position to wait, watching from the other side when the boy speaks up. His ears droop back against his head, foolish to think a child of his age has the patience for fishing. With hunting prey on the ground, or even in the sky, there’s some kind of tracking. With fishing, there’s only waiting.
 
Arlo takes a deep breath when he picks his head back up and stares from across the way. “When they come close to you, you’re going to scare them this way. It may take a while before they are comfortable swimming over here. Movement, and speech, can cause too much vibration on the ground and in the water… so you have to be quiet, too,” he tells him with a hint of a forced smile, glancing back down to the water in hopes he’ll refocus his attention on their task.