[Trade] Catch, Don't Release

Food was hard to come by when you were a turkey sized carnivore with the caloric intake of a large family of bears. Roseate was barely taller than the savannah grass he roamed in but still had to seek his own food to nourish his growing body, lest he be struck by the rickets! Or something of the sort, the craftsmaster had been at the tail end of a lengthy rant at that point and Roseate had been tuning him out for a while. Still,the point remained salient, no food meant death, and the craftsmaster had at least the decency to recommend a food source. 

A wide river ran through the savannah, its banks steep from years of intermittent flooding in the monsoon season and it teemed with life. According to the craftsmaster, fish were nutrient rich and didn't tend to fight back, an ideal target for a young whippersnapper like him. He had warned the raptor that fish were wily and fast, but the promise of a meal that couldn't kill him had been endlessly tantalising to Roseate. Even the mice he had been catching since freshly hatching had bitten him back a few times, and now those bites were no longer worth the mouthful as he began to outgrow them. If he wanted to make it to juvenile status, he would have to secure a more filling alternative. In places the river was shallow enough to barely brush against his belly and here was where he would begin his stakeout. With the water being so shallow there was little chance of something sneaking up on him beneath the surface. He could afford to pay undivided attention to the movements of sluggish catfish that milled about in the mud at the bottom of the river. They were fat and shiny, appetising in a way that made Roseate's mouth water. He could already imagine the taste of them and hurried to splash his way to the middle of the river. He knew it was going to startle the fish and scare them all away, but his plan didn't involve instantly snapping one up.

Roseate had always been told he was quiet for a raptor hatchling, scolded for 'sneaking up' on adults and frightening them. He simply saw no need to make a fuss about his own existence, making his way silently and observantly through his short life so far. He had seen others and their raucous play, but while they made a racket he revelled in the quiet that revealed all kinds of secrets to him. He got bored, of course he did, but there was far more to see in the world when you slowed down to see it. All his splashing done, he stood completely still in the flowing water and began to scan the riverbed. CLoser to the banks, he could see the ripples of fleeing fish fading as they took refuge in the reeds. They were sparse compared to the slower rivers further downhill but enough to provide the fish with a false sense of security. Now came Roseate's speciality: waiting.

The Craftsmaster had told him it may be hours before a fish ran in front of his jaws, and even then he might not catch it. It was heavy on time investment but after weighing up his other options Roseate couldn't think of a less risky hunting method. He watched the river bed for a while, the water distorting it slightly as it flowed and tricking him a few times into thinking there was something moving down there. Sometimes there was something, a strange pale worm briefly surfacing, a clawed limb pulling more clay on top of itself, a water beetle kicking its powerful back legs to scoot past his stakeout spot. When he grew tired of looking down, Roseate looked up instead. The clouds were drifting lazily across the blue sky and a deep grey wave of them could be seen in the far horizon. Rain on its way to soak the islands, a welcome reprieve in the dry spell they had been having. 

A dark shape flashed through the water and Roseate struck. 

He had missed, and he pulled his spluttering snout from the water in indignation as he watched the silvery trout dart away at lightning speed. He hadn't expected it to be easy, but the failure stung regardless. His face feathers were now damp and he spent longer than he would like to admit on drying them off with his wings so water wouldn't drip into his eyes and further hamper his hunting. As he preened he was heartened to see a wading bird further down the river, standing perfectly still like he was trying to do and watching the water with a glistening amber eye. At the very least he had picked a decent spot, or he was just as much of an idiot as the water bird was. With his eyes clear he returned to staring at the water, not letting himself be distracted by the sky any longer as he focused on his sole objective. 

The surface of the water began to turn from a gleaming blue to a streaked orange and purple as the day wore on. Roseate's legs were freezing and his neck ached from staring downwards, but neither panged as much as the hunger in his belly so he forced himself to remain stoically facing the river bed. The water bird had left with a prize long ago, flying off to either eat in peace or to deliver it to a nest of babies. 

A dark shape stirred beneath him. Roseate lunged.

The shock of cold water wasn't enough to deter his strike and the hatchling pulled his head back up with a squirming fish in his jaws. The fish's tail slapped his face and he could feel it begin to slip through his sharp teeth. Roseate struggled through the water, keeping his head tipped back to avoid the fish slipping fully out and back into the water. He stumbled up the bank, waiting until he reached flat ground before dropping his prize into the dirt. The taste lingered in his mouth as he watched it writhe, in awe of his own accomplishment. He eagerly seized it again, savouring the meat and chirping with joy. He hurried to finish it, not wanting his prize to be stolen by something bigger passing by. With his belly full, he flopped onto the ground and silently watched the sky as it grew darker. His first fishing foray had been lengthy but worth it, solidifying his choice to live a more pescatarian lifestyle until he was big enough to defend himself.