Dragoncrest Cliffs Archerfish

Njord could see the light of Swordfish’s interest sprout like a summer wildflower. It excited the father to see his son grasp this lesson.

“Aye, Swordfish,” Njord affirmed. “In the summer months, beavers prefer richer fare, like riverweeds. But when tha greenery dies back an’ the frost comes… that’s when they be turnin’ to young, soft wood tae fill their bellies.” Njord looked around and spied more beaversign among the copse they stood in.

“Seems tae me they’ve been feedin’ heartily,” he observed. “Tis good we’re here afterdark… they be comin’ out at night.”

Njord put his nose to the ground and found a rutted-out path their quarry used to pull themselves from the water. “Let us hide close by an’ see if one will make an’ appearance,” he schemed devilishly. “Where do ye suppose a good place for us tae watch would be?” he asked, handing the reigns to the boy.