fish!

Scraps fed survivors and Brandr was grateful for every mouthful he could scavenge from the kills of others but he longed for the taste of fresh meat.  He thirsted for something warm and moist not the half frozen remnants of other mighty hunters that had more to their name than the pelts on their backs. He was getting better though.  With each failed hunt he was learning.  Sooner or later he was going to sink his fangs into some hapless, wriggling creature and as he gazed about the delta, maneuvering from miniature isle to miniature isle he wondered how hard it was to fish.  Truth be told he'd never tried.  Well… not really.  Splashing about like a spastic with his siblings certainly didn't count as any form of effective fishing unless the flailing limbs accidentally stunning the scaly creatures was the secret of fishing.

Brandr sighed as he stared at the rippling mosiac reflection of himself in the water.  It looked like memory.  Fractured, just like his.  Had he ever really been a pup that played with siblings or was he simply courting ghosts in his day dreams of what life should have been like before the plague?  

Skimming around the delta, he ducked down in the swaying grass.  Splashing?  Someone else was here!  Golden eyes narrowed as he slunk through the grass to watch an older man in the water.  Was he fishing?  Brandr watched the other man, taking in his lithe movements, the way his body shifted in the water and his fangs sunk into his prey.  Brandr stuck his head up above the grass but was too wary to approach the stranger. "Um… hey!  Hey, excuse me!  How'd you do that! Catch that fish I mean.  Is it uh… hard to do?"