They were fun little things, weren't they? He wondered why they wanted to eat his fingers, his other hand too, and when he stretched his arm out into the shallow river they picked at his elbow all the same. Maybe he tasted good? They were like pests, but didn't annoy him as much as any flies had. Mesut finally glanced back, seeing the centaur stride fown the short hillside with a bad look on his face that made the snake recoil slowly, dipping his head back and low as if he wanted to disappear between his own shoulders. "Crash...?" Mesut never considered the wagon could crash, and for all it was worth, seemed sincerely guilty he was ignorant of any damage that would've been caused by his own excited dash for the waters.<br/><br/>With his tail coiled around himself now, almost defensively, his gaze followed the horse till he sat down in the riverbed, close enough to cause a splash of water to course up Mesut's lower half, splattering up to his face. He didn't seem to mind it, used to getting rowdy in pools back home, but kept his tense demeanor. "... Did it hurt?" He opened his mouth again to say something after, an excuse, an explanation, but nothing came up, at least nothing meaningful. Mesut wanted the wagon to stop, at the time, waiting seemed almost impossible. Swallowing his fear and leaving the coil had built around himself, he smoothed over to Fakir and softly draped an arm over his lower back apologetically, still staring up at him with wide eyes. "I learned not to, just now. If it helps. I don't think I would want to do that again." He let out a huff, like a child forced to admit their wrongdoings, resting his head against the stretch of fabric that covered Fakir, warmed by being in the sun for so long.<br/><br/>When prompted, he shot his head up again, taken aback. "... The small ones?" He moved off of Fakir to bring his face close to them again, trying to be careful not to scare them off once they slowly wandered back to the shoreline. There were so many that it should be easy to pluck out at least one, wouldn't it? He shot Fakir a look like he didn't want help, at least not now. He had the idea to do it himself, and at least wanted to see it through before using the horse like a crutch again.<br/><br/>A few minutes had passed, mostly of Mesut carefully dipping his claws into the water, seeing it he could corral some of of the fish to flick them up onto land, but they writhed out from between his fingers. When he inevitably got frustrated, trying to smash them into the silt from above, they seemed to rush away from the shadow of his hands. At one point he scrambled to catch one, not much longer than a finger, but it jumped out of his hand like a chunk of soap, prompting him to fall front first into the water with a solid thud  when he attempted to snatch it out of the air. He stayed there, sulking, thinking, slowly slinking the whole length of his body out and dragging himself in a circle, chest to the tip of his tail. The small accomplishment set his heart beating with a small dose of pride, prodding at the fish that swam along the wall that he created with himself, like some sort of fleshy fence.<br/><br/>It was, at least partially sadistic, Mesut thought. He had trapped them! Unless they suddenly jumped over his tail , he could sit and splash and scoop them up all he wished. Having fun with his new power, he stretched his arm out, pushing the fish side to side, herding them whichever way he pleased as he was happy enough to lay his chin in the dirt and watch like some kind of minnow overseer. "Fakir, how many can I have? If there's this many here, the river should be full of these, yes?" They didn't look like they had much meat on them, but being miniature versions of his meals back home, made him salivate a little regardless.