Big Salmon Lake A walk in the skies

Germanicus spoke of a term they would have used for Crowfeather in his homeland. The dark figure looked at him intently, storing away the word naiad in his mind, in his tone for safekeeping. 

Biting down hard enough to cease the fish's squirming, Crowfeather tossed it toward the silver male and then crouched on a stone beside the water again. The young wolf's eyes were intent upon the stirred prey. They swam beneath the surface, glistening, jewel-like, and tantalizing. 

Darting again, he pulled back with a fish clasped tightly, smiling around the struggling shape of it. Crowfeather ended its movement quickly and stepped off of his fishing stone. 

I like to hide from them. Watch them move slower, when they get comfortable, he explained softly. You can start to predict where they'll move if they get startled. If you reach in quick, where you think they're going to try to escape, usually you'll get one. Crowfeather bit into his fish and began to peel away at the meat. 

What's a naiad? he asked tenderly after a moment.