Swiftcurrent Creek Bigeye

The youthful man stared at the creek—something Akavir caught himself doing from time to time as well, given the mesmerizing turbulence of the rushing waters. Champagne eyes skimmed over the boy, noting his injuries were healing—and the frost-tipped man had noted Shardik’s scent upon the borders, tending to duty along with his mentor.

Drawing up to the young man’s side—still a respectful distance, Akavir canted his muzzle lightly in way of a quiet greeting, his own gaze falling upon the flash of scales in the creek waters. “Do you fish much?”