Dragoncrest Cliffs Archerfish

Njord’s face softened, pleased to see his son’s meek expression brighten up. “Aye, she would,” he assured Swordfish.

Then, the lad took a pass at airscenting the marsh around them, though his response lacked confidence. “I suppose yer right on both accounts,” the seafarer agreed with a chuckle. “Tha bog’s earthy scent can easily muddle t’nose,” he pointed out. Njord sniffed and took a few paces forward as if he followed an invisible trail. “C’mere,” he beckoned.

A small copse of birch and maple saplings huddled together. “When ye cannae find the prey ye look fer their food.” Njord took a deep breath near the base of the skinny shoots. “If ye ken the scent of each plant, ye will soon find yer quarry. Oh! look!”

Njord’s voice became hushed, but his tone signaled his excitement. Small teeth marks had freshly gnawed out the base of the young maple. There was definitely beaver activity in the area. Njord moved aside to let Swordfish have a better gander.