he could hardly fail to notice the expression on her face. it was so familiar that it stole the words from his tongue.

he recovered with a quiet laugh. "i know. my sister, aimi- she has a very difficult time. but she manages, mostly. the migration is easier- maybe you'd like to try when it comes along next year. in a better season than winter."

but of course everyone had to eat no matter the season, and he was no stranger to a cruel winter ocean. patience came easier on his own, with nothing but the waves for company.

yunxu returned her smile, somewhat less nervously. "thank you."

he stepped carefully along the fallen tree until he had reached the sprawling branches at the end, and leaned over the water.

when he'd been a child, the hunting was all done in tidepools. sometimes fish washed up in the hollows in the rocks when the tides went out. when prey couldn't dart away and out to sea, it was good for pups. it taught them the basics and the confidence. and after a good storm, plenty tended to wash up there.

he didn't have tidepools. but he had a shoal of darting minnows that seemed to like the cover and the shapes of snapper he'd seen earlier- the younger, smaller ones, before they migrated out to sea.

he used his teeth to snap off a leaf- small, still deep green despite the cooling air- and let it fall, teeth and legs at the ready, planted firmly on the trunk. a little ripple spread where it landed, and he waited.

the minutes did give him ample time to remember he was being looked at- and that he was hardly a competent teacher, not that he'd ever been given the opportunity to teach before. he was far too inexperienced for that. he had an excuse not to pay attention, at least- it was more comfortable to keep his eyes fixed on the water.

the sleek shadow of a fish darted under the branches. yunxu carefully didn't stiffen- that could set the branch swaying, and that would chase off a meal as easily as fumbling the bite. his head was already bent low, and when the shape came close to the surface to nibble at the leaf, he snapped his head forward like a shark.

his teeth hooked in. but the bark wasn't what he was used to, slick and rotting, and he abandoned the attempt to keep his dignity and plunged in after it, determined not to make a fool of himself at this too.

the water was shallow enough to stand in this close to shore, so the panic surged like a tidal wave and then faded, muted but present. it rushed up his nose and blurred his eyes. he couldn't breathe. the sea roared in his ears like a heartbeat. he was-

no

he clenched his jaw tighter, paws flexing in the sand as he yanked his head backwards. blood mixed with saltwater on his tongue as he plunged hastily back towards the bank, the weakly-struggling fish held in his jaws.

---

Skill: Hunter

Fen met the softness of his laughter with a faint smile and a shake of her head. No, she didn’t want to wait. Despite her patience being the bane of her own existence—the most untrained skill that she held—her urgency and desire to start immediately would always far outweigh the easiest path. Besides, she figured that if she learned the basics now that would only mean that come the migration season—as Yunxu had described—she would be on track to becoming a pro.

The princess’ smile remained weaved atop her lips—soft and gentle—as she watched Yunxu steady himself along the log. Carefully poised and balanced like the silent beauty of an evasive crane. She took notes, finding her toes flexing along the uneven dirt beneath her, her muscles tightening in a pseudo attempt at matching his form.

She watched as his own muscles seemed to tense along his shoulders, yet not with outright restriction but rather with precise control. He was still as a statue and yet there was fluidity beneath his waiting form, as if he were the ultimate predator that others had forgotten. Short and slender, perhaps if Fen was anyone else, she might’ve missed the danger that lurked behind his carefully, attentive stare. Yet watching him, in what she could consider his natural element, Fen found herself appreciating that quiet sense of danger.

Did he even know it existed inside him?

The princess stared in quiet awe, green eyes growing wide with carefully measured breaths as he gently placed the leaf atop the still surface of the water. And when it rippled—her eyes darting to the sea and back toward Yunxu—she found herself more interested in the way that Yunxu held himself.

The way his body was positioned—his form sharp and strategic atop the log—and the quiet stillness that seemed to surround him. As if the sea itself listened to him and only him.

And with astute precision, a swiftness that Fen had barely caught were it not for her already widened eyes, Yunxu lunged.

He had been so quick—so carefully exact—that she hadn’t expected the sound nor the sight of splashing water to meet his plunging form. And almost immediately, Fen reeled herself back. Her paws backpedaling along the softened earth as she shook what minute droplets had fallen along her shoulders.

Had he meant to do that?

Confusion rippled across her features for an instant before a smile of excitement bled into its place with articulate accuracy. If she had hands, perhaps she would have clapped. Instead, she cheered, an excited note of wonder slipping from her teeth as her paws danced on the sidelines.

She had all but forgotten his plunge into the water, and if it had been intentional.

That was amazing! She praised, her tail swaying like a flag behind her. You made it look so easy.

Her gaze shifted from the log to Yunxu, to the fish that sat within his jaws, How do I do all of that? She asked, voice soft as she attempted to once more mimic the stance he had held atop the log, even on solid ground. Like this... she murmured, mostly to herself, as she shifted the weight toward her front paws, and then... she turned a glance to Yunxu, I lunge for a fish?