On the willows there, we hung up our lyres

As soon as the flashing shimmer of the fish gets closer -- it's a striped killifish, and even the dark lines of camouflage aren't enough to disguise it from Galahad's less trained eyes -- he dashes into the water, braced for the misery of it this time. He sinks his teeth into the body of it, containing his displeasure at the taste of seawater, and drags the fish ashore.

"I got it!" muffled. "I got it!!"