Wheeling Gull Isle kasta

She was willing to share the little fish with him. The fastest way to Mojag's heart, so far, was through his stomach (a typical boy, then); but he refused to take what she'd caught. Its yours -- he started to protest, but she was asking for his name.

Oh, I'm Mo! Well, m'name is Mojag, but, everyone here calls me Mo. He hadn't shared that with anyone else yet. It had sort-of slipped his mind when he'd arrived by way of nearly drowning, and all that. At this point it was easier to simply answer to the short-form.

What's yours? He asked, though he was focused intently on the little pools of water and their inhabitants.