07-31-2008, 02:43 PM
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For as long as he had lived already, he hadn't tried to do any fishing off of the shoreline before. Laurel considered himself fairly decent when it came to fishing out of streams and lakes, but in the faster currents of oceans and rivers he wasn't necessarily anyone's first pick of the litter. Maybe it was because the faster paced bodies of water required attention, while the lazier, slower bodies let him get away with spacing out for hours on end without doing much of all but putting a worm on a hook. For the same reasons, he had lost a rod or two from not paying attention no matter the type of water. With his pant legs rolled up to just above his knees, he had almost gotten bowled over by the chill of the water and the strength of the waves mere seconds into standing in it.[/html]
But minutes later, when he had finally began to ignore (and remember just how for north Canada really was), it wasn't too hard to get a feel for what he was doing out there in the water. It was warm out—muggy per usual—but the sun was absent from the sky, replaced with menacing clouds out to the east with ones further back and out of sight for the time being to the west. But the salty air was a bit welcome to a coyote who was very much a mainland-type instead of one made for the coast. He liked the ocean, but at the same almost possessed a fear of it and how endless it looked, so for that reason his line of sight didn't linger long at the horizon. Letting a sigh fall easily from his mouth, he cast his line out once more, just hoping to snag some unfortunate fish for a meal.