It was a damned good thing that she caught one. For he dove in afterwards, as the nearby fish scattered from her movement. He hoped that in the frenzy, he might catch one.
Only he was rewarded with nothing. Just frozen to his core now by the frigid waters.
With visible agitation, he dragged himself back onto shore. Empty handed. Disgruntled, tired, hungry. He'd be damned if he took from her though. She had earned her first fish well and truly. He stumbled a few steps away from her moment of gloating to shake out his coat from the worst of the drenched tufts.
Look at you, cubbin'. He grumbled as he offered a look through one eye. The other currently squeezed shut to avoid the water that still trickled down his face.
He was proud of her, even if his current state suggested otherwise.