The water was cold, Lana's breath punched out of her as she waded in. But she did not miss a beat, her wince becoming a smile as she tried to laugh away the numbness. "It sure is," she agreed with Llinnea's statement. "I haven't fished much before, have you got any tips?" She stopped when the swift waters nearly reached her chest, surely that was enough.
Loach's voice floated downstream toward them and she tried to remind herself that in theory, it was all a lot like hunting. In the end you had to do what you had to do to survive, but the river always had plans of its own. As the river ran past them, she could feel its steady, insistent pull against her legs, always requiring counterpressure. It would be easy to become accustomed to, to forget about, but that could be dangerous.