Lake Rodney One fish, two fish...

Galen had meant every word, but it didn't stop a guilt from coiling in his chest. He saw how much Luhtar wanted this; wanted Galen for a brother-at-arms, part of his world in a more constant way. More than these forays, like the season's pass. To think this could be the last autumn he lain eyes upon him, it saddened him more than words, but that was the cruelty of their lives, even if these bright moments cloaked the sorrow on the horizon. Unknown, but certain.

Still, he refused to let it dampen his soul, as he huffed a laugh, Maybe I will share it with the fish.

At that, he hauled it up into his mouth again, a garbled mess of words passing around it. Come. Den.

He nearly keeled over, the weight of the fish strange in his grasp. He always struggled holding them, with the way they were longer than stout, and heavier for pound it felt like, than a chunk of moose or elk. He didn't want to eat it at the lakeside, though, best not to agitate the fish anymore than they have for any passersby fishers. Galen would like to share the rest of the evening at length, the two of them prattling and puffing about this or that, before Luhtar had to return to his people.