Sergei, for the same reasons that Zelk kept to water-filled caves, was now in Pisces. He'd been here before--he thought that this might've been where he'd fought that foul polar bear, once, left it torn and bleeding. Though, it had left him badly wounded, as well.

He wasn't out looking for it, though. He was pacing along the edges of the lagoon, carefully watching its sparkling surface for what lay beneath. After long moments prowling the shore, he went still--watching, watching, then half-leaping in with a thrust of his massive brown forelimbs.

The brown bear came out a moment later with a long, broad fish clasped between his paws: a fish that thrashed, struggling, its silver scales glittering in the bright light. He hauled it back, waddling, and pinned it--then his teeth went to work, lips pulled back to peel flesh from bone.

It was only then that he noticed Zelk--and from here he assumed it was the same white bear that he had fought once before. He let out a short, guttural roar--a warning, perhaps a threat--and dragged his fish back a few yards, eyeing Zelk warily as he ate.

Sergei stood on his hind leg as the other bear approached, abandoning his fish in favor of a threat display. But the moment Zelk spoke, he realized that this wasn't the same bear. Puzzled, he dropped back down to all fours, aggression vanishing--and went back to stripping bits of flesh from his own fish, swallowing it down.

Small, dark, beady eyes watched Zelk from time to time, and between gulps, he said a very few words.

"Thanks. Thought you were other white bear. Sergei," he went on--and then, by way of explanation, "Name is Sergei."

The thickly-accented, rumbled words sounded mostly indifferent, and his gaze was likewise, though just a little suspicious as he tore at his food.

Sergei eyed Zelk with reluctance and irritation. He didn't like his feeding being interrupted, and he didn't like this stranger intruding on his calm and empty life.

"I do not need friends," he rumbled.

After that, he was silent for a time, eating, mostly ignoring Zelk; he was a loner, and something about the other bear's presence was irritating him, though he couldn't quite put his paw on what. "I catch my own food. If you become wound, then I--perhaps--bring fish. Then if I am wound--you bring fish. But I am not wound," he went on, his language a little broken.

Then he went back to eating, shuffling a little away from Zelk.

Sergei felt himself bristle at the unwanted advice, and swung his heavy head around to glare beady-eyed at Zelk--but the white bear was already turning to leave.

He found himself relieved. He liked his solitude; despite Zelk's words, he felt strongly that "things" would not be "much more better" with others pestering him while he ate.

The bear was quite content alone, and after the stranger had left, he was soon absorbed back in his fishing.