Qeya River Happy as a lark

successful roll here

kivaluk is quiet as she talks him through the process of drying fur. it sounds complicated which only reaffirms his thought that he wasn't going to try it on his own anytime soon. if, at all. he would let that up to more experienced wolves, like amalia herself. his interest is more piqued by her talking about how to fish, listening through the two ways that she suggests fishing.

watch the shadows, or lure them in with small bits of meat.

at first, kivaluk observes, watching as she demonstrates her favored way of fishing.

she catches something small and he gives a small yip of encouragement before wading into the river. for now, he decides to adopt her favored way — mostly because he doesn't feel like letting little blobs of meat bob in the water. his muscles tense, ears slick back against his skull, eyes locking in concentration on a large shadow as it swims near him.

he takes a small breath and lunges. he grips it and it slips from his grasp; teeth raking across scales. following the trail of blood in the water he tries — sloppily — again and again until he grasps it betwixt his jaws and struggles with it before flopping onto the shore with it; as soaking wet as the fish. it was luck alone that it was a decent sized fish.

you made it look so easy. he says with a small, breathless laugh.