Dragoncrest Cliffs Archerfish

Riverweeds during summer, wood in the colder months. The young seafarer stored this information in his mind with a small nod at his dad. He liked to learn these things. It would give him the best chance of pursuing something that he enjoyed, something that didn’t task him to accomplish. While hunting was a great deal of effort with little promise of reward, Swordfish felt that if he understood his prey well enough, he would never fail.

Njord said that it was fortunate that they had ventured out after the sun had set. He said that beavers were fond of snacking in the night. Swordfish couldn’t help but sneer at this. He thought the image was a funny thing. Y’know I’m partial to a late night snack too, he joked quietly, deadpan voice sounding with a hint of a humorous tone on its tail.

After inspecting one of their trails, Njord said it would be smart to hide and wait for one to emerge. His son regarded him with a curious stare. When the reigns were passed to the young wolf, he blinked sleepily. The boy’s hooded eyes shifted to their surroundings with the intent of somewhere to hide.

There, he motioned with his snout toward a fixture of rocks. Can watch ‘em from on top of that boulder. Won’t even have to stand in the muck. It seemed perfect. The beavers shouldn’t look up for threats, right? Giving the two hunters a height advantage sounded like a good idea to the boy.