Punching Above Ones Weight Class

Cinders had gone fishing once before, her first experiment with something that wasn't a squirrel but rather something more substantial, and it had gone well! The catfish wasn't leaving any leftovers to worry about but it kept her full for the night and kept her independent, so it was a significant shift in her ability to hunt down prey. But Cinders wanted to keep her hunts efficient, enough to fill her up and keep her going but not leave any waste, and given her size and preternatural ability to remain still fishing had been a rather attractive option for the pup rather than making the trip inland to hunt for traditional land bound prey. And so, here Cinders stood once again, up to her stomach in salty water and remaining as still as possible. Teaching herself how to fish through sheer force of will and practice.

A fish brushed against her but Cinders remained still, she wasn't looking for a fish so small as to only feed herself, there had to be bigger ones out there that were easier than seals to ferry back. And so she remained still, watching the shadowy outlines of fish that braved closer to her figure that had been still for over an hour, and, as Cinders had hoped, it paid off when a shadow longer than the pup herself brushed along her. Repeating her method from last time she struck out with a claw like razors, gashing it along it's side though not killing it, and while it of course tried to flee she was able to follow the trail of blood to chase it through the water. She couldn't delay long, however, as the fish could go where Cinders could not.

But, as she chased the mysterious fish out into the water, she felt a pair of teeth bite back at her as she yelped. Losing her footing and composure as she suddenly slipped between being above water and below it while the salty water stung at her now bleeding claw. And, really, Cinders wasn't sure what upset her most.

The idea of a fish with teeth or the idea that - after all she had survived - she was about to drown to death.

@Igor
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It was by the will of the Gods that Igor found himself along the edges of Philos, marking the borders and taking the time to search for others. Since awakening here Igor has noticed that many tended to wake upon these snow laden lands. The young King, protector of Philos, tended toward hostility with trespassers, though Igor seemed to be one of the few who could claim otherwise. While Igor understood the young king’s caution, he also knew that kindness, like a well-placed paw, could often prevent a fall. To offer help or clarity cost Igor nothing, even if his loyalty lay with Philos first.

Having completed his patrol, his feet carried him towards the ice sheets. There, the great wolf sought the possibility of a good meal for his pack, perhaps some fishing or seal hunting. Full bellies, he knew, tended to foster a more tranquil atmosphere. Before he could begin his hunt, however, the scent of an outsider invaded his senses, compelling him to investigate. They were on Philos land, and their presence needed to be addressed swiftly for the safety of his pack. While Igor might be more lenient than most, more open to the prospect of outsiders, it would not be at the expense of his new found kin. He quickened his pace, his senses sharpening. Then came the sound: splashing, a sharp yelp, and more splashing.

Igor quickened his pace, his senses on high alert. A dark mass of fur, flailing desperately in the deeper water, came into view. His heart rate quickened, a flicker of concern momentarily breaching his carefully constructed composure, but he suppressed the involuntary reaction with a practiced ease. The great northern wolf knew how to survive in this frozen domain. He was adept at traversing the icy terrain and swimming, even with his considerable size. His paws found purchase on the ice as he moved with a steady confidence. He aimed for the struggling creature, intending to grab it by the scruff and drag it out of the frigid, dark abyss.

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