Whitebark Stream i don't know where i'm going but i just keep moving on

the girl is clumsy, still slow, but she listens. she adjusts, learning from her mistakes rather than repeating them. she is not as precise as she could be, but it is effective. the fish lands upon the shore, thrashing wildly, and the girl wastes no time in ending its struggle. 

gjalla does not praise her. instead, she tilts her head, sharp eyes assessing. “better,” she acknowledges, but it is hesitant. “you are stiff. if you hesitate, you will miss your mark.” 

despite the statement, there is something almost like approval in her gaze, an admiration for her willingness to learn. it keeps her interested enough to stay. 

amusement flits across her face—brief but present—as the girl grimaces.

“you will get used to it,” she murmurs, dragging her tongue across her maw. she glances once more at the river, where more fish lurk beneath the surface. “again. tell me your name,” she instructs.