S A M U E L
Thankfully, Melita easily took the spear and the job along with it. All Sam had to do was watch and nod as she demonstrated the proper way to kill fish. He did not expect her to be successful as quickly as she was, flinching as the point entered the water and came back out holding a flapping, suddenly very real fish.
He watched with a horrified fascination as it breathed it's last breaths. It was dead, he thought that meant, but he'd long ago forgotten quite the significance of breathing. He could survive without it, after all, so he didn't want to assume anything else required it. But it was so still on the spear there was little else it could be, so he nodded and nervously reached to take the handle of it back.
"Thank you. I...I did not. Th-think it would b-be so easy. Are you...are you a fisher? Or...p-perhaps you live in the w-wild?" He had heard of people who chose to live in the Outskirts, far in the woods, under the trees. Honestly, it sounded like a nightmare to him, but he supposed some might find comfort in surviving in the simplest way possible.
Experimentally, he poked the fish. It was wet and cold on his finger, and smelt terrible. But it was still food, so he leaned back to place it in a towel in his bag.
I AM THE OCEAN CLAWING AT YOUR MOON
