Gone fishin' (as if she'd bait a hook)

Not an island this time, but still plenty of water. Even for the dry heat of summer there vegetation here was thick and vivid green, no doubt thanks to the nutrient rich soil and the constant supply of fresh, running water. Approaching the river bank, he followed it a few paces, noticing how the sides had been eroded by time and floods, steep little drop-offs with roots peeking out from in-between the mud. He bet the fishing was good in these parts, saw the river branch off in several directions, feeding the rivers that cut through from the south all the way to the north-west.  The water itself was a murky green, fresh enough to drink but not something he really wanted to risk swimming across. He'd seen enough crocodiles and gators to last a lifetime here, he wasn't looking to be snapped up, thanks.

It was then he glanced up, noticing a black and purple shape on the other side of the river, pretty, if he'd cared to notice.