Nodding to her as he scrambled to his feet, shaking leaves from his pelt, Fishfin was fairly ready to head back, back to camp. Still, it had been nice being out here, the leaves, and the hunting. The prey was probably half-frozen by now, but that might not matter so much. After all, prey was prey, and he doubted anyone could complain. Except them when they had to carry it in their mouths. Grabbing his, he found it was indeed frigid, his tongue protesting mightily. Before he left though, he did something that might be considered rash, if you wanted to. Calling over his shoulder, Fishfin mewed
Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, and we could hunt again. And realizing how odd, or presumptuous that sounded, he added
If you're not busy that is. before turning and bounding off, leaves flying from his paws. @
Falco