Furbeak trotted over to Beaver Lake. It definitely lived to its name; there was many dams and beavers here and there. It was in a flat grassland surrounded by trees and forest.
He pushed through the ferns and foilage to have a bright yellow sun shine in his eyes. Blinking, he decided where to start.
A good route would be from here to the middle, then he could try swimming in circles for a bit then in place. Then he'd race himself back to this spot.
Furbeak ran in big steps over to the lake. He dove in and swam to the middle, beavers fleeing. His fur stuck to him uncomfortably and his feet worked to keep him afloat. The deep lake wasn't crowded with beavers anymore.
Furbeak swam in circles for a few minutes, and then he got into the center to swim in place.
It wasn't hard to stay afloat, his furry legs would push the water more. But then Furbeak remembered that all swimmers have the trait. He worked on swimming for a good hour, seeing how long he could swim in place or how fast he was at swimming.
After getting out, Furbeak shook himself off and found a great, flat rock to sit on and let the sun's rays warm and dry him.
Furbeak must've fallen asleep, because a big shove woke him up.
"How's it feel to be a loser? I'm a Sharpclaw now," Mudspot's voice hissed.
"You should have been disqualified. There's no fighting allowed!" Furbeak retorted.
"Get up, loser. Icebreaker wants me now. She's a Sharpclaw too, now, or did you forget?" Mudspot stalked off to the lake.
"What?! No! That can't be," Furbeak shouted. Mudspot just caught a fish and strolled away.