“Do you need a hand?”

The Khajiit’s ears pricked, looking up from where he was busy cleaning fish by the lakeside, the insides left in the shallows to hopefully attract more. He gave his knife a swish in the water to clean the blood off, tail flicking as he snapped the neck of his current fish.

“If you’ve got a knife and don’t mind a warm meal in a few, sure.”

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