Hyacinthe beamed positively, a rare thing that only occurs once every week, and an even rarer thing to be sighted by a bystander who thought to near the dreary looking cabin that was Hyacinthe's home. It was her home all right, safely isolated from a nearby village, but close enough to Alexshire so that Hyacinthe didn't need to be inconvenienced with distances (true, running long distances didn't bother Hyacinthe, but sometimes she just didn't feel like it running like Speedy Gonzalez). Hyacinthe stretched out her arms, tilting her face to the moon, whose beams seemed to give her a brighter energy. Hopefully, today would bring Hyacinthe a good catch. Hopefully.
As usual, Moërta was padding along the banks of the River, whose calm waters gleamed in the shiny moonlight. And, as usual, a good pile of fish was lying nearby.
"Oh, Moerta..." Hyacinthe scolded the waterfox, who seemed to smirk. No, not funny. Hya thought. She scooped up the pile of fish. Turning over each and every one of the fish, Hya saw that wet mud smeared across each. Nope. Not good at all. And, with a single look of disappointment, Hya could see that each fish was dead. Hya couldn't just throw the fish into the water.
"Moerta, you owe me." Hyacinthe pointed the pile of fish held tightly in her fist at the waterfox, who tried to ignore her. Hya sighed. Would Moërta like it if she had to clean and prepare the fish?
Shaking her head, Hya threw the fish into her sack, which was clenched in the fist that had not been holding the dirtied pile of fish. Hya squelched through the mud in her black multipurpose boots and came through to the coastline. The waters seemed inviting. Hopefully plenty of fish had retired to Hya's part of the River for the night. Not hesitating to enter the silvery waters, Hya began to trudge through the river, water giving way to her thin, wiry body, until the water was at least up to Hya's waist. Sniffing, Hya could smell the salty air, the salty waters, but before all, she could smell the unmistakable scent of fish.