Lost Creek Hollow Gone fishing

No need to match the written length. Open to any encounters, friendly or unfriendly.

Bjorn had trekked out from Kvarheim’s lands to a place called Lost Creek Hollow. His legs carried him at a canter, at times reduced to a brisk trot, till the cathedral of trees had come into view. As he approached the entrance, he could feel the cooling temperature as the vast, wide canopy shaded those who entered from the bright sun. He had started his trek early, just before the sun, and the late morning temperature was rising, but he found reprieve below the trees. 

He followed little creeks with grew in size to streams, then the water collected in pools. He continued onward, westward, his curiosity piqued as the bodies of water started to come together. Once he stopped, to rest, to take a breath, his ears turned to the sound of rushing water. Not just any rushing water, however, but was it truly what he thought it was? He went further west and lo and behold, his hunch was right: A waterfall lay before his very eyes, filling an even deeper pool. 

He moved to the waters edge, mist spraying his face, as he looked down into the water. There were salmon! Yes! He hit a treasure trove of young salmon. Chum. 

Now, there was only one thing to do: Sit and wait for the right moment to dive in and grab his prize. His whole focus was on the fish in the water, blocking out the background.