Whitebark Stream Some say you can get hurt by what you don't know

@Vercingetorix

Downtime was a good opportunity for Ephraim to lose himself in his thoughts. He resided in his head a great deal of the time. He'd been trained to never sacrifice alertness for it, so even now his long ears were twitching to and fro to survey his surroundings and his eyes remained sharp while his mind churned. He thought of nothing in particular, just whatever idle thing floated across his consciousness. He found it cathartic to just let his brain buzz like that without much attention.

He paused at the edge of a bubbling stream, lined at the edges with shards of ice. He had never experienced a winter, but knew what to expect—cold and emptiness. Ephraim dipped his head low to brush his nares across the sharp edge, inhaling its biting scent, but found no significant information forthcoming. Lifting a narrow paw, the coywolf contemplated the ice, then deftly brought his foot down on it. His ears flew upright at the sound of it shattering and his nape prickled.

A splash drew his attention up to the stream and he just saw the webbed tail of a fish disappearing into the water. Licking his chops, the boy picked his way along the bank, hopeful for a meal despite knowing he had no experience with catching fish.

He emerged from the nearby trees, having relieved himself and snagged a rabbit to snack on. Licking the offal from his chops, Vercingetorix watched the boy from afar, intrigued at his ministrations. Ephraim was a curious one, that was for sure. Serious but still childlike, at the same time. He had more than a little affection for the boy, and was glad the two had a chance to bond further on the trip back to Drageda.

Hey, kid, Verx greeted, padding toward Ephraim with a wagging tail. Doin' some fishing? They've never really liked my jaws, but maybe I can pick up some good moves from you. At least, it looked as if Ephraim knew what he was doing. Perhaps Vercingetorix was mistaken.

(Plot twist: he always was mistaken.)

Verx's voice sent the fish splashing further upstream, but any frustration Ephraim felt over that was erased when his eyes met the tall wolf's face. There was something about Vercingetorix that resonated with him—maybe because he was able to be taken seriously when he had to be without acting too serious. That was something Ephraim would have liked for himself, but being a kid, he had to try twice as hard to be taken seriously to begin with. There wasn't much room to just be himself when he was always trying to make a good impression, whereas Vercingetorix was wholly and unapologetically himself.

For that, Ephraim admired the man.

"Oh, well," he blustered, picking his way down to the bank in the direction the fish had gone, "yeah, I'm totally a pro at this, I'll show you how it's done." What was a little white lie, anyway? He'd been born on the coast, hadn't he? Surely somewhere in his genes was the blood of an ocean fisher, and he reckoned freshwater fish couldn't be much different. He just needed to find it and then it would be easy, he convinced himself. Who cares that genes don't work like that? As far as Ephraim knew, he could totally bluff it, get lucky, and impress Vercingetorix mightily. "We just gotta sneak up on it," he instructed, as if sneaking up on fish was as trivial as that, and crept forward along the shore.

He smiled, chuckling softly. Sha, he agreed in a murmur, trying to make his burly body as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn't easy. Eventually, he gave up and brought himself down to his belly, watching as Ephraim got closer and closer. The boy would have much better luck than he would. He was built for strength, not stealth.

Ephraim's paws were whisper-quiet on the ground as he crept along the creek with his ears and eyes both trained on the bubbling surface. Once or twice he paused, not because he sensed anything amiss, but because it seemed like something a skilled hunter might do. A splash further down the stream made his eyes widen and his whiskers twitch, and he quickly licked his lips to compose himself. He was getting close. He was actually going to do it!

But there were many variables to hunting beyond just the hunter's ability to move stealthily. Wind direction, weather condition, even the direction of the sun's rays all had an effect. Ephraim failed to notice his shadow dancing across the surface of the water, but the wary fish in the stream didn't miss that detail. So when he thought he was close enough and swung toward the surface with a quick, spear-like lunge, his quarry was already streaking away.

Spluttering, Ephraim struggled to right himself in the shallow water and, soaked to the bone, trudged sourly back to the bank where Vercingetorix was, he was certain, laughing at him.

A laugh rose in his throat and died abruptly when he caught a glimpse of Ephraim's stormy face. He supposed he couldn't make fun. After all, he was a terrible fisher, too. And while laughing at others was certainly fun, he liked and respected the young warrior enough to keep his mouth shut--though his eyes still shone with some mirth.

Damn, Verx said ruefully, shaking his head. You were lookin' good there, too. You'll get him next time.

His mismatched eyes watched droplets of water fall from the coywolf's pelt for a moment or two; then, without warning, he trotted down to the edge and flung himself into the stream. His head broke the surface of the water with a loud, shocked gasp. Fuck, it was cold.

He had most likely scared all the fish away, but he didn't want Ephraim to feel like he was alone, you know? Wolves who looked stupid together stayed together. He dragged himself out, shaking his pelt and padding up to Ephraim with a comical glint in his eye. Now we match, he remarked, teeth chattering madly.

His imagination was running wild enough that he ducked his head away from Vercingetorix, imagining the man's face contorted into a smirk when he was actually doing an admirable job keeping his expression quite straight. A scowl overtook Ephraim's features as he plodded a short distance away and shook himself off. Great. He was sodden and the wind cut coldly through his wet fur and he had nothing to show for it. What was he going to tell Heda if he caught cold?

He didn't have to think about it too long. Verx reassured him. Ephraim shot him a frown but there was something in his eyes that gave away that he was glad for the support. He and the adult probably both knew he never would have caught that fish and all of his bluster was just big talk, but Vercingetorix never let on if he did know. Instead he did something that made Ephraim gawk.

What a complete idiot!

When the soggy wolf extracted himself from the stream with a shivered statement, Ephraim picked his jaw up off the ground and gasped, "what'd you do that for? Now you might get sick too!" The boy in him found it funny and struggled not to laugh. Verx was a strange guy but he had a big heart in there somewhere, tucked down under his philandering and wisecracking. He didn't think anyone else from Drageda would as willingly have made themselves look foolish just to make him feel better. "Heda's gonna kill us!" he insisted, but now it was his eyes that twinkled with mirth as he suppressed a snort of laughter.

Nah, he drawled, shaking his head and blinking the water out of his eyes. I'm a man of steel. Ain't no cold gonna get me down. As if on cue, his nose twitched, and he let out an explosive sneeze that rocketed his head down between his knees. That was a fluke, he added, sniffing as he tried to regain at least one shred of dignity.

Verx lifted his head again, running a paw over his muzzle (be nice if wolves had Kleenexes). Maybe I'll give it a try, he said. Fishing, I mean. Gotta keep warm somehow. He shook himself again and trotted down to the bank, staring down into the water. Sure enough, it seemed devoid of much life after his big splash. He scowled, turning to make a sour remark to Ephraim when something caught his eye.

A gleam of silver. He folded himself into a dark loaf, blending in with the rocks, waiting for it to come closer. Steady. . .steady. . . He lunged forward, half-diving into the water with jaws aimed directly at the fish. It came close to slipping away, but he found purchase on its writhing tail, and flung himself out of the creek, fish head smacking the shit out of his face.

Fuggin'-- Vercingetorix cursed, slamming the thing on the ground. It wiggled, but only limply, and ceased to move at all when he took it between his teeth and bit slowly down. Snap. Crackle. Pop. Fresh Fishy.

Well, that was a fluke, too, he said, looking at Ephraim with blood on his lips and amusement clear in his eyes.

rolled a success in tabletop

Ephraim listened, brows arching slowly up his forehead, as Vercingetorix tried to insist that he was stronger than any cold only to be immediately betrayed by a sneeze. He narrowed his eyes into a good-natured squint and drawled a skeptical, "uh huh." He did believe that Verx was a man of steel. He was one of Trigeda's own and Ephraim had seen firsthand how well coordinated and powerful those wolves could be when they needed to be. He had no doubts at all that Vercingetorix was capable of much when the occasion called for it, even if he didn't seem like it all the time.

Like now. Silently, he dipped his head down and followed the older man along the bank, picking his way on gentle toes so as not to disturb the fish below. Then again, there wasn't much for fish. He didn't see the fish that Verx identified with his untrained eyes, but he froze on the spot when the dark-haired wolf crouched low and then sprang into the stream. Ephraim's ears flew back in surprise when moments later, Vercingetorix emerged with a streak of silver flapping wildly around his face. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the sight.

"Yeah, right!" he dismissed as he craned his neck to get a better look at the now dead fish. His tail switched pensively side-to-side while his gaze traced over its slick scales and rested on its gills. "Seriously, how'd you do it?"

Lottau, bro, Vercingetorix insisted, grinning. Swega klin. He licked his chops, shaking himself out again (whilst trying to avoid spattering Ephraim in the process). He nosed the fish toward the coywolf. Here, man. Eat up; I'll see if lightning can strike twice. The smaller warrior needed the meat more than he did, though he would never say it to the boy's face.

Padding back to the bank with a swagger, he peered into the water, wondering if the second splash had scared all the fish away. Perhaps so; it seemed devoid of life, at least for right now.

We'll give them a break, he called over his shoulder. They're hiding. Briyon. He couldn't blame them in the least. He'd run from a big scary shadow, too, if he wasn't the big scary shadow himself.

He didn't need to be told twice. Ephraim swept toward the fish and plucked it off the ground, recoiling a little when its wet flesh touched his tongue. Disgusting sensation. The meat inside was wonderful, but even an ocean dweller like Ephraim couldn't help being grossed out by the feeling of slick scales. It made him envision slime, which wasn't something he liked on his mind just before a meal.

He jogged a few steps further from the river so as not to disturb Vercingetorix, who quicktly concluded that the fish had gone into hiding, and tore into the dead one's plump belly. Ah. It felt good to eat something, even if it wasn't his hard work that went into it. He wasn't the sort of wolf to better savour things he'd achieved with his own teeth; food was food and only fools refused what they were given.

He picked up the remains of the fish, having left some for Vercingetorix if he wanted it, and muttered through its cold tail, "there's some left." He offered it to the guard, then sighed through his nose and said, "should we..." but he stopped short, having forgotten the next word. Trigedasleng was still difficult for him at the best of times. He could feign fluency if he had to but even his well spoken sentences were choppier than a native speaker's, and then there were times he just plain forgot. Screwing his face up with frustration, Ephraim ground out, "get back to Heda?"

He snapped up the remainder of the fish, swallowing it in a bite or two before lifting his head again. Glong op raun Heda, Vercingetorix supplied helpfully, tongue rolling over the words. Sha. He smiled at Ephraim before taking off at a slow trot, dark fur rippling in the breeze, still wet from before.

Verx was freezing his ass off, but he wasn't about to admit that now. He was ready for a nap in a warm den, whenever and wherever that took place.

He lowered his head in thanks, committing the words to the back of his mind where his burgeoning Trigedasleng dictionary lived. Someday. Someday he would be able to have a full conversation without breaking from Drageda's language. Vercingetorix led the way back and Ephraim followed dutifully, stiff from the cold but unwilling to admit it or complain about it.