Whitefish River all I need is to be struck

her brow furrowed when the woman claimed she had no time to swim. it seemed to her swimming took very little time at all, and was rewarding, too - all manner of sea creatures and river-dwellers had made up the bulk of her diet for what seemed like a long time. "why?" she chirped, offered a tilt of her head. 

"oh," was all she offered to the woman's doubt, and then, with a twitch of her ears, "watch!" she backpedaled, squinting at the riverbed and the dozens of flickering shadows along the bottom. a moment, two, and she pushed forward, legs working to drive her downward. a moment, two, and she surfaced with some morsel betwixt her jaws, paddling determinedly back towards the stranger. when she once more reached the riverbank, she opened her maw to let the crayfish flop to the ground. it took the sudden release of pressure to snap a claw at her lip, and swung from her muzzle like a pendulum. she flinched, but was used to their snippy paws and batted at it with a forepaw until it either expired or simply gave up, and fell with a dull flop to the earth. tail began its wagging again, gaze set on the woman and eagerly awaiting some form of validation.