Totoka River greed

crowell shakes his head violently, water flying in every direction as he sputters out a breath. wasps—fuckin’ wasps—still buzzin’ in his skull like they’re burrowed in there. he starts to curse again but stops, flame-bright eyes finally landing on the man by the riverbank. stiff, scowling, sitting over some half-gutted fish like it’s a goddamn treasure hoard.

what’s it look like, boy? crowell snaps. i’m drownin’ meself fer fun. real good time, ye should try it. he snorts afterwards, water drippinh from his chin, then kicks a paw through the shallows just to make a splash. don’ mind me, aye? just coolin’ off after a friendly tussle with nature’s most vengeful bastards.

he watches the man’s grip tighten over his fish, and his grin cuts wide. hah—ye think i’m after yer sorry excuse fer a meal?