Post by Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro) on Jul 13, 2012 12:57:53 GMT -8
73.12.19|mid-morning
The wind, more of a gentle breeze in truth, blew across the lake. Talira, dangling by her knees from a tree branch, was trying to count the small waves that it created as they lapped against the shore. Crimson Moril wasn’t helping, constantly plunging in and out of the water after the fish. He had yet to catch one, but that was probably because his Crimson hide could be seen coming by any but the blindest fish.
“Moril, you’re not going to catch any of them!” Talira shouted, twisting around partway to track Moril’s flight across the lake. “Nineteen, twenty…” her voice trailed off as Moril, his eyes whirling a happy blue-green, flew over and hovered in front of her, holding out a still-squirming fish. Apparently, he thought it made an ideal gift.
“Moril, you goof,” Talira said, “I’m trying to count over here.” She was laughing at the same time though, and nearly fell out of the tree from laughing too hard. She made shooing motions with her hands, still laughing.
Moril hovered higher, cocking his head in puzzlement. His kept making the come-back-later motions though, so he decided to eat this fish himself and flew off to a nearby rock to do just that.
Talira grinned, and returned to counting, though she did have to start back at “one”.