Whitefish River So start me up and watch me go.

the corner of her lips tugged upwards, lopsided, at the girl's response and it was with a tilt of head with which she regarded the stranger as she moved toward her. saarthal liked her eyes, she decided, though she'd seen better. in all honesty, she found most wolves' eyes to be beautiful - there was just something about them, she felt, that was intriguing. no, not because they were the window to someone's soul. there was no window to anyone's soul, period. but because, well, the eyes were a window to something. what it was..she couldn't tell you.

"i can fish. dad forced me to learn it when i was..younger. life skill, he says, gonna save your life one day," saarthal laughed, eyes flashing impishly as she leaned forward, closing the distance between them. "spoiler alert, it did not, in fact, save my life. my girlfriend did. well, ex girlfriend. she kissed me." in fact, that hadn't happened. yes, dad did very kindly inform her that fishing was going to save her life when she'd thrown herself into the sea when she was younger to avoid the lesson, but no, she'd never had the need to use the skill of fishing to save her own life, nor did her 'girlfriend' ever save her (they were never girlfriends. it had just been a girl who fucked around with saarthal's heart, and her body, and her brother)

"whether i like fishing or not, however, is another matter entirely," saarthal smiled mischievously. strangers were fun in the sense that she didn't know them, and they didn't know her, so she could make up another persona, be someone she was not and it wouldn't matter. there was a chance it could come back and bite her in the arse, that is, if said stranger came to join saarth's pack or something, but the chances were rare, and saarth wanted to have fun. the fun bit outweighed the consequences. well, at least, this time it did.