Adrift

When he suggested she ask the yearlings to help, her right ear gave a flick, and there was a minute tick in her jaw that quickly dissipated. She dispelled any hint of tension with a flick of her tail, like a nervous cat. Ha! that bought a grin to her face. She wasn't exactly role model material after all. At least yearlings were adult shaped, just a bit simpler in the way they saw things too. If he thought it would do them good to learn, well, ultimately, it would leave her with more time to get shitfaced at the end of the day, so who was she to argue? "If they cry, I will send them to you," she teased, "and if their baskets break and we all starve in the winter, well, lessons are important." She shrugged, a toothy smile showing that she was, of course, joking. If she was teaching them, they would learn properly, and she wasn't above making them re-make their traps until they were perfect. After all, there were other fish in the river to test them on before the giants came in from the deep.

As for things getting busy, she arched a brow. "Are you planning another raid? Or do you just like to torture your poor sister with secrets?" She could feel it now, charged like the air before a storm, she could even taste the petrichor. Róta didn't really want to know, did she? But she would ask anyway because what was life if it wasn't pain? It felt like lightning would break from the clear sky and drive her into the rock beneath, she was almost certain her hair was standing on end (it wasn't, but that didn't stop the jolts from coursing under her skin and stealing her breath away).