Arrow Lake white snake

She pounced.

For his own selfish interests, Anselm prayed she emerge with a struggling fish in her jaws.

Instead, she arose with nothing but the bitter taste of being bested by a fish.

Anselm's lip twitched in schadenfreude. His tail canted ever so slightly to the left as she turned around and was caught by surprise.

Her voice and disposition was far sunnier than his own, which regarded her in the contemplative way a thief studies their mark. Her usefulness was directly tied to her ability to hunt, and Anselm wasn't going to befriend any old stranger. Just long enough to see you are not a good fisher.