fishing with friends

Northern Alacritis was getting especially boring - and so the brute would venture south. Further and further, until none of the sights and sounds that he was acquainted with were around anymore. He was immersed in a place that was completely new. The fauna was different, the forest were different, there wasn't a single landmark that he was familiar with. And yet he traveled onward. Bored with the way that life was trudging along without anything interesting happening the brute wouldn't regret leaving behind the continent he was born on. Idly he would wonder whether the place that he found himself in was still considered Alacritis at all.

The shade of the sycamore trees hid the full saturated red hue of the brute's fur, making it look a deeper color than it truly was. Flecks of fire-y red could be seen along the brute's back where the sunlight peeked through. At thirty eight inches the male was large, and currently standing with his front paws in the creek, watching a snake slither by. It had been a few days since he had hunted for himself, too taken to learning his way around these new lands. Maybe he would try his hand at fishing?

Eyeing the water, the brute's ears flicked back, his lips curling into a sneer at the thought of eating fish. Bitter flesh didn't seem particularly pleasing to his palette, but it seemed easy enough to catch. Surely he wouldn't have any trouble at all snatching one of the little fuckers up.