Fishblight Mire ✢ Sɨnɨɨh

ha! a bark of laughter. he shook out his coat with a boyish huff, water spraying in arcs. you? distract fish? they drown, maybe. forget swim. poor little things.
his accent was rough, numic-born, frayed in all the right places—like sunlight through mountain cloth, charmingly offbeat. the cadence of a man who had never been rushed in his life.
is good thing i not fish, he added with a wink, tail swaying with a teasing swagger. you wink, i sink.
he padded closer to shore, dripping but unbothered, tossing a look toward her sprawled elegance.
you sit pretty. i go again. a pause. but if i drown, you pull me, yes? not let big strong hunter go cold in river, mm?
then, with a flourish of bravado, he turned back to the water, throwing her a wink over his shoulder. watch close, beauty. this time, i catch monster.