Sleeping Dragon Left the girls of Tuam

ooc: for the hunter trade.

While no one was watching and with only Junebell snickering in the back of her head, Foxglove took the opportunity to give into childish joys. From early youth she had been drawn to all kinds of waters - was it a tiny puddle or a big lake - the dappled wolf would be there to take a dip. She would swim, lie down, splash around, dig the mud and pick the weeds (or whatever was found at the bottom) out and then - wet, dirty, often stinky, but very, very satisfied with herself, she would go home.

Foxglove had found that she did not like the salt pools very much, because they made her very thirsty and her feet itchy. And, of course, there was hardly any food found there. Therefore she would often hang around the river that ran next to the territories. Frogs - despite the end of the season - were still abundant and now and then she would be lucky to catch a fish too. And this was she doing now - because playing around in water made one hungry. No matter the age. 

Standing almost chest deep in the stream, her gaze was fixed at, what happened under the water, waiting for the perfect opportunity.