"Fat Orange Puff, too big, this little one will do."
Splash.
His hand instantly dove in the river and caught a small Red Scale Snuff. It wiggled between his fingers and tried to escape. Riktor clenched his fist even tighter with glee on his face. The red fish in hand slowly died, but Riktor was more focused on returning to the riverbank.
Fourteen-year-old Riktor was standing knee-deep at the side of a gushing river. The waves were strong and the bottom slippery, so he had to be careful not to splash water on his tunic.
Riktor was lean, so he always was the weakest kid in his village, but he was very fast. That's why he could catch a Red Scale Snuff with his bare hands, and by his hand motion, you could tell he was used to this.
"Karra (Damn it)."
