Totoka River It’s Not Much, But It’s Honest Work

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There was more truth in Donovan’s first statement than she’’d like to admit. Her mothers barely hunted themselves, instead relying on the Seraphim to keep the caches stocked up. Then she had Séamus, who was all too happy to keep her happy and fed. It wasn’t that she couldn’t hunt — a perpetual nomad must know how to sustain oneself, after all — she just had a proclivity towards laziness and would gladly let others do the work, if it meant no harm to them. A lot of the times, wolves were happy to do it.

In a flash of sunlight off of a fish’s scales, the man caught another fish and threw it at her feet. Eleuthera stared at the strange, slippery, flipping thing and couldn’t believe that this random stranger was going to make her catch one, as if she wasn’t already humiliated enough. It was only when he invited her into the water to try her hand at it, did she realize she had been thoroughly distracted and did not internalize a word of his instructions.

Unable to stop herself, Eleuthera wade into the shallows of the water and, like a serpent upon the water, moved to the deeper river pocket where the slivers of silver congregated. The fish immediately scattered, darting away faster than she could follow, so she knew she must settle and wait for them to return. Eleuthera froze, statuesque, looking down her nose into the clear waters below.

— only, the fish did not return. ”Hmm,” she hummed in consternation, finally looking up at the man in all the glory of her failure. ”Looks like they’re more scared of me than they are of you.