The sun was just starting to rise as Clam made his way down to the banks of the lake that he'd grown up by and continued to spend his days around. His paws sank into the muck as he waded into the cool water, still chilled from the winter ice that had only melted recently. Soon the lake would be warm enough to swim in without shivering, but for now Clam could wade in it with just some chilly toes to show for his fishing.Having lived here for most of his life, Clam knew the lake and its secrets well. He made his way slowly towards a little cove where some trees had fallen in a storm long before he was born, making a little shelter that fish and turtles liked to use to hide from predators. Well. Most predators. Clam was patient when it came to fishing and once he got his spot by one of the fallen logs, nearly chest-deep in the water, he fell very still. It took a good fifteen minutes for the fish to start to swim near his feet, their guards dropped, assuming he was part of the scenery. He let them school around him for some time, in no hurry to startle them off, and finally when one stopped just in front of him he made his move.
With a splash, Clam dunked his head under the water, jaws closing around his slippery prey with an expert snap. Breathing out through his nose the whole time avoided any of the water getting up into his sinuses and when Clam pulled his head out all he had to show for the effort was some wet fur. Well, and a nice, fat fish that was wriggling helplessly in his jaws. Satisfied with his catch, Clam trudged back to the banks of the lake and moved onto the sandy beach he was near before dropping his prize to shake himself dry.
Looking around, Clam took in his surroundings as he let his fur dry, his fish finally falling still at his paws. The lake could be a popular place for roaming wolves to come for a drink, a swim, and to hunt which was why Clam was here so early. He preferred to do his own thing, not tied down by a pack or a group to travel with. His mother had been a lone wolf and so he would be as well, carving a living out for himself here among the water lilies and ducks and frogs.
Once he decided he was truly alone, Clam picked up his fish and returned to the water to wash the sand from its scales. He then carried it back to the tree root den he'd been calling home the past few moons to eat, content to leave the lake to other wolves for now. He chewed happily on his meal, licking his lips to free his muzzle of scales as they shed from the fish. His life may not be ideal to many others of his kind, but to Clam he couldn't be happier.
WC: 517