Word Count → 358
The coal-hued woman did not understand why anyone would ever eat fish raw. She didn't know how to start a fire, but she thought she would sooner starve than try to force herself to eat the fish. Thankfully, she did have a choice here, and she understood what Sirius meant by real hunger, or so she thought. She had been much thinner upon first arriving here from Eterne, and it was only after moving to Anathema, with Larkspur to provide for her, had she regained any weight at all. She was quiet in the face of Siri's chiding, and she merely folded her ears back, her stomach still rolling, though now she was quite certain the fish wasn't going anywhere, so long as she didn't try it again.
The hybrid took the thing in her one hand, tagging along after him with it dangling from her hand. She would have much preferred another hunting lesson about rabbits or weasels or mice, or anything with fur rather than scales. Still, she understood the necessity of being able to obtain food from various sources -- she might very well send up in a place without rabbits, weasels, or mice someday, only rivers and lakes. The thought caused her to shudder, and she knelt next to the water as well, leaning forward to lap up water, spitting it out afterward to wash the taste from her mouth. It still lingered there on her tongue faintly, and she wanted only to be rid of it.
Her chartreuse gaze focused on his hands, which had drawn the fish underwater and seemed to be rubbing it, so she did the same, plunging the dead fish back into the water and rubbing her hands against it. Scales immediately flecked off, dancing in the water for an instant before the current carried them away and downstream. She was surprised at this, and rubbed her thumb along the spine of the creature, watching as more of the scales separated and floated away. “They'll taste better after this?” she asked, wondering if they would cook them or simply make them more palatable by removing the scales and guts.
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