Sacred Grove i ain't good, i ain't bad.

Her name fancy? Abaddon hadn't ever thought about that but she assumed that it was indeed fancier than Lil' Crow. Not that Abaddon didn't like that name, she indeed found it interesting and having a nice ring. "Lil' Crow." She mused softly with a smile. "I like it." The girl didn't look much like a crow, perhaps more like a robin or a sparrow but eh. She hadn't named the girl so it didn't matter what she thought.

Even if she had come up with nothing her somewhat student didn't seem too upset by it. "Nah, wouldn't waste your time with this whole fishing ordeal cause that's wasting mine too." She laughed softly as the water dripped down off her chin back below into the stream. Her ear's rotated softly to hear all of what Lil Crow had to say. "Mhmm. If you move around too much they're likely to avoid you or you're likely to not catch them. Really gotta be patient and focus on the water below." The large ebony female explained with ease. She couldn't give her student any fancy tips like how to catch them fast or which ones were easier to go after. Abaddon wasn't that advance in the whole fishing business but she could at least share some regular run of the mill tips.

"Sometimes if you're really lucky one of them will pop their head up to the surface or they'll jump out of the water. Practically begging to be made into a meal."

“Do yah now?” She laughed softly, shaking her head – but there was something particularly mirthless about the rumble in her throat. No one really took particular note of her name, for better or for worse, but the compliment brought with it a sharp pang of memory. “Came from a pack named Crow’s Crossin’.” As if that explained everything about her, calling included.

But she left it there, sunset eyes instead watching how still Abbadon stood and then drifting lower, to the water’s surface and the little silver flecks below. From this angle, the fish were a bit difficult to see, but the sun provided enough light that she could at least make out they were moving. The longer the older loner stood, the closer they seemed to come, emboldened by the stillness. Did they really forget about the close encounter so quickly? Fish were dumb…

…but maybe easier for a loner to catch than something she had to chase, like a rabbit or groundhog, or, fuck all, a deer or something. That was damn near impossible. But this she could do. (With a bit of practice, maybe, out of sight from prying eyes.)

“Well, I appreciate th’ lesson, ma’am. Best be off, I think, but I’ll put it t’good use. Promise.”

Fade.