Otter Creek a raft of otters

Otters.

It was a shame Stark thought they weren’t worth hunting. She trusted his opinion implicitly, yet this did not stifle the rush of her thoughts as she still wondered what it would be like to capture one of those slick-looking beasts between her teeth and drag them from the water. Would they squirm like earthworms or flop like fish? How strong were they? Could they run as fast as they swam? Needle was always keen to give chase, but she imagined lunging through the frigid creek would be entirely unpleasant.

When she looked to her guardian, he was brooding once more. He would often fall into these bouts of stoicism. Usually, she just left him to his thoughts, however, this was one of those rare occasions she wasn’t in the mood for a stare-off-into-the-distance contemplative silence.

Otter got your tongue? She flicked him with her tail. Usually you’d be explaining by now the best way to catch one if I needed to, and how many claws and teeth they have, and if I have to worry about their family coming after me once I’ve killed one.