Mudminnow River they slithered from eden

Her attention was immediately raised when the man strode upon the scene. If Isleña was anything, she was alert; and if she was anything else, she was also averse to strangers. The she-devil truly did not like his sudden presence so close to her, and her drinking stopped, her movements stopped and almost even her breathing stopped as every sense was pointed towards the salt-and-pepper man who drank deeply just downstream. 

She lifted her head, water falling from her lips back into the river below, still very clearly staring at him — keeping tabs upon him, assessing him, wondering about him. Isleña was alone, and alone, and Luk was nothing. 

Then, she saw the grouse that had been deposited upon the river’s sodden shores; fresh, unguarded. What a fool, the banshee though sourly as her mouth began to water and knew she must act quickly. Stealing and other acts of cunning were her specialty, and she knew that opportunities as ripe as these did not always present themselves as readily as this. Isleña slowly moved from the waters, somewhat anaconda-like in her movements, and the moment she was free of the aqueous environment she charged at the free meal; with every intention of grabbing the felled grouse and absconding with it back to the cuesta.