Two Rivers Isle My dad would have been so upset

Ulrich patrolled the southern river for no particular reason. Rather, there was a reason, of course, but he was mostly doing it to think. He had been filled with so much energy lately due to the success of this little pack and patrolling gave him a way to expend it usefully. Also, so many had come so quickly to the Isle that he now expected visitors on a near daily basis. This was an exaggeration on his part, but, to him, it felt as if newcomers were showing up like flies to a corpse.

Flies to a corpse? What a horrid way of putting it. Like bears to honey? But bears were enemies. Well. He'd have to think of a better way of thinking of visitors. None so far had caused any trouble, so perhaps his overcautious was unnecessary? Regardless, he patrolled.

Hunting in this verdant place would take some getting used to.
Goliad knew the tricks of the desert: when best to venture forth from hiding, which nights would be coldest, what signs pointed to water, and the like. It was different here. There was more of everything. He wondered as he moved through a marshy segment of the riverside, picking his steps carefully across the packed mosses, if that was why the winter wolves were so large by comparison.
Hardy and strong, maybe even fat. He was jealous! What strength they possessed! The things he could do if he was more like them - but no, he was a sandstrider; there was culture and honor there too.
His mind wandered.
Across his path came a fat bird the color of snow! It erupted from cover and startled him back - and he rolled, while it chirruped and fled! When the frost settled and Goliad could detangle himself, he saw Ulrich striding along unawares.

wow short post is short. sorry.

A bird squawked up ahead, but Ulrich could not see it. Thinking nothing of it, thinking that it had perhaps been scared away by his own presence, he meandered along at his regular pace. But a few seconds later, he came across Goliad, who was so obvious with his bright red coat in the pale winter day. He looked startled.

Greetings, Ulrich said, studying him. Are you all right?

Ulrich came upon him quickly, and Goliad felt the sharp twang of embarrassment.
I think so! He erupted as he fluffed up, then shook off the snow and hoped he didn't look as crazy as he felt for that moment. His heart hammered in his chest.
I -- I was startled, there was a bird! It was the palest thing I have ever seen, and before I could catch it the thing had gone.
He didn't want to admit to being a failure, but the words spilled out all the same.

Goliad still seemed... upset? shocked? He shook the fur from his short red coat and tried to sound confident and he assured Ulrich that he thought he was all right.

A pale bird, Ulrich murmured, in thought. An egret, perhaps? How big was it? He had never spent much time looking at or thinking about birds, being as they were so difficult to hunt, so the large white heron was the only pale bird he could think of in that moment. He did not know that Goliad, in this moment, was feeling down on himself, or he might have said something encouraging. As it was, he only wanted to know what kind of bird had scared the poor man.

An egret?
He did not know what that was.
Maybe! It was -- round, and fat, I think. It was so fast! His flustering was over now, and he felt the chill of winter on his cheeks again, but now also Goliad felt mindless - he did not know anything about this land!
I wish I was a better hunter. I wish I could be useful to you, instead of - well, with the gathering of stories. I am good at that, but there ought to be more, yes?
He took a deep breath and let it out, watching the smoke curl from his snout.
Maybe I will make trades. That is how things are done in Sandsea; I could trade stories for lessons, and in that way grow! I do not want to burden you or your people.

Round and fat? Ulrich questioned. Not an egret, then. Egrets are long and tall. He frowned. A quail? Did it fly away, or run on its legs? They were quickly reaching the end of what Ulrich knew about birds.

He went soft as Goliad went on, staring at the man with kind, honey-brown eyes. Now he was reminding Ulrich of himself, what with all this self-flagellation. You are not useless, he said, when Goliad was done speaking. No one here is useless. Not everyone has the same skill set, is all. I'll have no more talk like that. You must think positively of yourself. Or my wife will have both our hides.

Now. I can teach you to hunt if you wish; we could always use more hunters. I have been teaching Adylaide to hunt for several weeks now, and she seems to be getting the hang of it, so I suppose I'm not a dismal teacher. If you'd like to swap a story for a hunting lesson, then go right ahead, but that's not necessary. He smiled. However, I would like to hear more of your homeland. The desert... fascinates me. He could hardly imagine so much sand and... heat. The thought of hearing more about the Sandsea excited him.

The man knew his birds! Goliad wished to one day have that knowledge. It would serve him well.
It was fat, yes. It ran! I think. Its wings opened and all I could see was snow, but it was fast - it all happened before I could react. And when he tried to chase it, it was gone. A fool, he was.

The implication that he could not hunt at all was frustrating to hear; Goliad could! He was a great hunter of things, from food to water, to the secret things of the desert - but this was not the desert. He had to remind himself of this as ire flared inside of himself.

I would appreciate that, Ulrich. He tried to keep his voice level, and then averted his eyes in a silent show of acceptance and respect. I would trade anything to help my adaptation here. This place is so different - but yes, if we hunt well, I will give you stories as trade.

Ulrich never knew what to do when others showed him respect like Goliad had just done. He still did not feel much like a leader, or like he deserved such respect. Everyone deserved respect, of course, but this extra level of it placed upon him just for being the leader of a pack seemed... misplaced. Everyone in the Isle was meant to be equal, yet that seemed a difficult concept for others to grasp.

Well... he said slowly, thinking. Would you like to hunt now? Perhaps we could go after that bird you saw, or... anything, really. Even if we don't catch anything, the practice would be good--for both of us. It was important to keep his own hunting skills sharp, after all. Speaking of keeping skills sharp, he realized how long it had been since he'd had a fight with anyone, either out of self-defense or merely to spar. Perhaps he'd ask around later to see if anyone wanted a spar, or he'd lose his ability to defend his home, forget all his fighting tactics...

However, Goliad declined the offer to go hunting right then, and he and Ulrich parted ways.