Finding a large leaf that would serve as a plate, I banked my fire, took the skewer from its place, and slid the fish off of the skewer and onto the leaf. There was nothing to drink, since I was saving the one bottle of water that I had, let alone lemon or garlic or salt and pepper, but I was pretty hungry and this was going to taste fine.
So I carried the fish, on the leaf, over to where my seal friend lay. It had, for some reason, covered its face with its flippers. "Does the smoke get in your eyes, my friend?" I asked, kneeling down next to it. I picked the first morsel out with my fingers, and set it on my palm, to offer the food to it. After all, I had been the cook, but the seal had been the fisherman. Or, rather, the fisherseal.
So I carried the fish, on the leaf, over to where my seal friend lay. It had, for some reason, covered its face with its flippers. "Does the smoke get in your eyes, my friend?" I asked, kneeling down next to it. I picked the first morsel out with my fingers, and set it on my palm, to offer the food to it. After all, I had been the cook, but the seal had been the fisherman. Or, rather, the fisherseal.