( ) Dawn had only recently broken over the forest, many cats still sleeping or having just begun to stir awake as the sun speckled across camp.

Wolfsquall was not typically an enjoyer of mornings. He was good at what he needed to do, got jobs done when they needed to be done, so he would wake as early as needed. That did not, however, mean he would be happy about it. On a usual morning, Wolf could be identified by the grumbling that replaced his normally loud speech, the slouch in his posture that seemed worse than the normal level of slumping, the half lidded eyes. Regardless of productivity, exhaust and an urge to curl back into a lengthy nap emanated from him. This particular morning was no different.

The ashen cat’s eyes were open, though they protested the fact. With heavy lids, he stretched out every muscle that wished to remain laying down. From a downward stretch to tackle to tension along his spine, to the flexing in and out of paws, Wolfsquall was making a valiant attempt to wake himself up. The effort was reaching minimal success. But he had a mission for himself, and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t go through with it because he decided he needed some beauty sleep.

That stupid catfish. He wasn’t a fool, the fish was likely long gone by now and he would be ridiculous to be bent on vengeance over a fish. Wolfsquall was, however, bent on proving that the encounter was not an accurate portrayal of his fishing skills. Though the prospect of finding a catfish, some minor vengeance, wasn't unappealing. It didn’t matter what Buck had to say, he could have easily caught that fish. His footing was just… The scales were… It didn’t matter. He could have. And that morning, he would. Lucky Wolf, the friend and affectionate mocker in question was in plain sight.

"Buckgait!" he called out, dark paws carrying him closer, "you up for some fishin'? Good morning for it. Those catfish got nothin' on the two of us."

in the morning, she is heavy with laziness and still blinking away the sleep from her eyes. cats usually leave her be when the sun reclaims its place in the heavens, but wolfsquall had a far different approach to the morn. the call of her clan-given name, something that makes her fur bristle and a sneer to grow upon her face, gives way for a long sigh. he is upon her with ease and she has no hope of shaking him off. yet at the call of catfish hunting, she can't help the smile that breaks through. what a scene, wolfsquall down in the river with a catfish winning their squabble. it'd be sad to replace the memory, but she knows that he won't rest until his ego is repaired. and that could only happen when the catfish was drug to shore and killed. men with their honor. horrible things.

"fine!" a raspy bark to get him from bothering her further, though she is poorly concealing her excitement. "two of us...as long as you play the bait, the catfish will surely come back to finish you off this time." she does not doubt that the two of them could get that oversized beast from the water, and perhaps buckgait will be kind enough to let wolfsquall deliver the killing blow. she arises, muscles tensing and calming to let the blood flow easily through her. allowing her to fully wake up for this task. though, she's sure the cool river would have been enough to awaken her fully.

the woman bumps against him in an attempt to move him, or perhaps to push him into the calm waters. "can only get that big guy if he sees you're still alive." really, she just wants to see the freezing waters seep into wolf. it was always good to have some entertainment while staking out a big catch. and besides, the only reason they were out here so early was because wolf overestimated himself.
( ) Not long after Buck's confirmation that she was down for the hunt— not that Wolf ever thought she may be averse to such a thing— a grin made it's way across the tom's face. The grin almost reached the point of instant replacement, near leaving in lieu of a scowl at the reference to his oh so graceful attempt at catching that damned catfish. Seemed he had earned himself a new reputation of "the warrior who's greatest foe was a massive fish". Could be worse, he figures. Could be significantly better, however. Though the grin staves off it's exit. Rather than a deeply wounded scowl, Wolf's smile remains though is joined by a squint of amber eyes, and a raspy "Ha." dripping with all the sarcasm he could muster— though he wasn't as masterful at such a thing as some clanmates. "Quite a comedian, you are, huh?"

The two could feign mockery back and forth, but the way in which they both looked forward to this outing was obvious nonetheless. Whether for catching a nemesis, spending time with a friend, or watching someone get slapped by a fish a second time.

"Would be surprised if we saw that fish again," he mused, plastering on a bold-faced façade, "knows he messed with the wrong fellow, s'my bet."

With that, a light shove against his shoulder came his way. Wolfsquall, caught up in the act of bravado that was somewhere between making fun of his own self and genuinely trying to prove his lack of defeat, was caught unaware. A little stumble was all it took, one front ashy paw slipping ahead of the other and planting firmly into the waters surrounding their grounds. Within an instant, the morning chill of the waters soaked down through his fur, and Wolf snatched his leg back with a sharp inhale of a breath. Hunting assured this would not be the last time Wolfsquall got was chilled to the bone— and given his recent interactions with rivers, likely more of him than necessary would be exposed to the cold waters— but this early? "Son of a-" he yelped with a slight hop. Wolf would lift the water-soaked limb, taking care to shake it off a bit closer to his hunting partner for the day. An attempt to let any of that frigid water find it's way to Buckgait as well. Only fair, he mused as his grimace turned back to a smirk.

"Tryin' to give the catfish an early good look at me?" he barked back, "guess that's a good a start as any then."