Splat! [Bog]
It didn't take overly long for him to locate the herbs he wanted to use for seasoning, and with a mouthful of a few choice sprigs of dill, fennel, and a few water chestnuts that had been coarsely ground, all wrapped in a large fern frond. A crude knife made from the sharpened tine of an antler hung precariously from the side of his mouth. He emerged from the cool underground den to catch his new companion settled by the fire, highlighted by the flickering tongues of flame. Just in time to catch his question, as well. "So, it's just you and… Bug? Doesn't it get lonely out here by yourself?" the young male asked softly, a hint of concern notable in his brows. Shaking his head lightly, Bog plodded over to where he'd left the catfish on the slab of stone. He set the bundle of herbs and blade down beside the fish, and with his mouth freed up he could finally give a real reply. "Nah, my family lives here as well, but by tradition my sisters and I left my moms' den at like.. six months. I still see them every now and again, when we run into each other around the mangrove, and at gatherings." he explained absentmindedly, pulling the knife towards him and deftly slitting the belly of the catfish in a practiced motion. He'd been prepping these fatty fish for a while now, it had become a bit of an art form now. He pried the ribs open with a small crack, and scooped the undesirable offal free. He left the meaty, succulent bits that he liked, but removed the intestines and stomach. Verdant gaze flicking to the side, he searched for wherever Bug had settled for the night, and found the large frog had hopped over. The pair had a bit of a routine by now, and Bug knew he was about to get free food. The moss-dappled healer tossed the refuse to the frog, who readily devoured it, sand and all. "I also get to meet strange folks every time I head out to explore, too. Or when folks like you wander into the mangrove, sometimes they stop by to trade." he said with a grin flashed Áskell's way as he set the knife down in the sand at his side. It would get cleaned once the fish was cooking. With one claw, he peeled the wrapping away from his seasonings for the meal. "Where are you from, anyways?" he enquired, scooping his ground water chestnuts into the opened belly. From there, it was only a matter of carefully rubbing the fine herbs into the skin on both sides of the carcass. With that done, he set about the business of carefully sliding his paws into the sand beneath the stone slab and lifting it onto the fronts of his forelimbs so he could get some leverage and place it onto the tall stones he'd placed in key spots around the fire pit to support it over the coals. Then he flopped back onto his haunches, and then over onto his flank so he could face his dinner guest and listen to whatever stories he might have to tell while he waited for their dinner to cook. |