nepetaleijon | (no subject)

He's been over these mountain trails plenty of times since he first found them at Milliways. They're not his mountains, but they'll do right enough, and with that mask of his he can find his way if need be.

"Brought the creel with me," he says. "For takin' all of our catch back."

Nepeta sniffs the air; the stream isn't far from here.

"Are we going to roast them or eat them raw?"

"Me, I roast 'em or pan-fry 'em," says Shephard, "but I figured, shit, you do what you want with the ones you catch. Ain't no skin off my nose either way."

"Oooh. I nefur tried pan-fried. Meowst of the time I used to just eat them as soon as I caught them, unless I caught an extra big one. And then I'd take the leftofurs home to roast."

"Never hurts to know more'n one way to treat a fish," Shephard says. "You got a favorite kind?"

"Stranglerfish," she says at once, happily. "They're sort of sw33t and tangy. Espurrcially roasted."

"Huh. Don't think we got those on Earth, but you never know what you're gonna find in the waters around here," he says. "Let's try that part of the stream up ahead. I've been seein' shadows in the deep parts that sure look like fish waiting for supper to me."

She nods, and drops back to walk beside him instead of bouncing ahead.

"So you want to try with the r33l befur I try with claws? It mewsually chases all the others away."

"Yeah, that's probably best," says Shephard, and sets the wicker creel down to one side before producing a fuzzy, feathered lure and attaching it to the end of his line. "Let's see, now..."

Hopefully she won't try to chase it when he casts it, but you never know.

Nepeta hunkers down to watch with interest.

The feathered lure is pretty tempting! But she will restrain herself. A good hunter has to know when NOT to pounce.

It's a lucky thing she's good at restraint. Shephard's lures take a while before anything tries to bite. Maybe the fish aren't hungry this evening, or maybe they've already eaten- who knows.

He'll look to Nepeta eventually, and gesture to her to have a go at it her way. No sense being a jerk.

In an undertone: "They aren't taking the bait?"

"'Fraid not," says Shephard equally quietly. "Might not be the right kind today. Happens sometimes. You see what you c'n git and I'll try another spot once you've brought yours in."

"Okay!"

She flattens herself closer to the ground, and creeps closer to the edge of the stream.

And for a long moment she's completely still, except for the slightest intermittent quiver at the tip of her tail.

Shephard watches in silence. He can appreciate this kind of thing; before he was transferred to HECU, he maxed out his scores in the Scout Sniper program, and you have to be willing and able to be very, very still until exactly the right moment for that. (Among other things.)

Wait for it.

Waaaaaait for i --

Blue barbs spring out in mid-leap, and Nepeta hits the water claws first. A tremendous splashing goes up where she hits -- rather more than it seems she'd be able to make on her own.

Shephard darts forward. This, he's got to see. Beats channel cat tickling all hollow.

There is definitely a wet longcoat and some thrashing blue metal in there somewhere.

There is also something scaly, and fangy, and pretty damn big.

"Hot damn!" Shephard lets out a whistle. "You need a hand with that, Nepeta?"

"I got it --"

Another massive splash, and a yowl -- but it sounds more angry than hurt.

Oh, this is gonna be messy. He'll just- he's got the creel over here, he'll just... get the pipe wrench out in case she lands it and he has to brain it to keep it from getting away.

This time the cry isn't Nepeta's, and it's more of a hissing screech than a yowl.

With an even bigger splash -- and there's something stickier than water in it -- the thrashing, struggling pair wallows onto the riverbank. Whatever the thing is, it's longer than Nepeta is tall, and being out of the water hasn't stopped it from writhing.

"Judas Priest."

Shephard lunges for whatever part of it he can grab; she's gonna need help with this.

The nearest bit of it is a weird limb that isn't quite fin and isn't quite leg; there's a stiffened flipper at the end of it, its tip sharp enough to be tearing gashes in the earth as it flails.

Nepeta, meanwhile, has sharp parts of her own; the critter is bleeding badly, even as it snaps at her face.

Yeah, okay, he's dropping onto that thing knee first and pinning as much as his weight will allow. Fuckin' hell no wonder he wasn't getting any bites. This asshole probably ate everything else.

That's actually pretty effective. The thing screeches again, and tries to pull away; nothing doing.

"Watch out fur its tail!" Nepeta shouts, and drives her claws at the thing's eyes; it jerks to the side, and makes a serious attempt to bite off her arm.

Right. Fuck the pipe wrench, it's stabbin' time. Shephard's got that combat knife for a goddamn reason, and depressingly, yes, that reason does include the possibility of having to immobilize and/or exsanguinate an otherworldly aquatic monster on a one-to-one basis. Or one-to-two, whatever.

That tail, meanwhile, is taking increasingly close swipes at him; it's a very awkward angle for the critter, but it's persevering!

Yeah and also that tail looks pretty wickedly barbed.

It's not spitting poison at him and it hasn't deployed a sonic area attack yet. That automatically puts it in, at best, third place for things he does not want to be near.

Doesn't mean he's not going to give slashing it to pieces his absolute best shot on its next pass, you understand.

The thing's scales are pretty thick, but not so thick that his knife can't cut through them; more blood splatters, and another hissing shriek goes up.

And is cut off abruptly, as Nepeta finally manages to put a pawful of claws through the monster's eyes and into its brain. It's another moment before its thrashing starts to peter out.

Nepeta sits back on her haunches, and lets out a delighted whoop of victory.

"Jesus fucking mother of ass," says Shephard as he wipes at his face with the back of his forearm. "What the hell shit fuck is that thing?"

"Fish meownster of some kind," she says, happily. "It looks a little like an Alternian rifur serpent, but those don't have such sturdy legs."

Shephard looks at it, thinks about it, and finally nods. "I'mma take your word for it," he says. "I got no idea how to cook it, but it looks like your sort of dinner anyways. You want me to scale it or anything?"

She shakes her head. "This one's big enough fur at least two meals. I'll take the leftofurs home."

And without further ado she slices the thing's belly open and happily falls to on its entrails.

... troll. They're like that. Karkat did warn him.

"You have fun with that, then," says Shephard, and goes to have a look at the water again. Just in case that thing had friends with a penchant for lunging out of the water in search of revenge. Because it would.

Nothing appears to be lunging out of the water.

"Want to try fur more with the r33l? Meowbe further downstream?"

"Worth a shot, sure," says Shephard. "Maybe the little bastards'll let their guard down now that son of a bitch ain't there no more."

"Okay!"

She tosses an unidentifiable internal organ into her mouth, bounces up onto her feet, and captchalogues the carcass of the fishmonster.

"Let's go."

Hey, some things are best eaten fresh. Maybe not quite that fresh as far as Shephard's concerned, but he's not the one who's a troll, so it's all good.

Besides, there is a seriously sweet spot further down along the mountainside that he's got a real good feeling about.