Chapter 20: Fish On

Chapter 20: Fish On

Iopened my eyes to the face of a rather cute crab engulfing my entire field of view. Sergeant Snips blew a single happy bubble and scuttled to the side, watching me intently with her lone eye.

“Morning, Snips.” I muttered, stretching my arms to the sky and arching my back. “You seem a lot more chipper today.”

She bubbled her agreement, nodding along with the sentiment.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, enjoying the lingering calm of a good night’s sleep. “What do you wanna get up to today?”

She lifted both her claws above her head, held them together there, then mimed casting out a fishing line. I couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.

I threw the sheets off, slid out of bed, and gave another big stretch. “I was thinking the same thing, Snips!”

We’d spent the entire day fishing yesterday but had only gone in search of the baitfish that lived along the shoreline and riverbank.

“Shall we hunt for larger prey today?” I asked, giving Snips a sidelong glance and already knowing what her response would be. She nodded emphatically, her entire body bobbing up and down in her enthusiasm.

I barked a laugh. “But first . . .” I gave her a conspiratorial look. “Shall we check the crab pot?”

Her body rocked up and down again, this time even her claws joining in.

“Let’s go!”

I had to jog to keep up with Sergeant Snips’s excited pace. The predawn light was as enjoyable as ever, and a cool breeze gave me goosebumps in its passing.

We reached the shore in record time, and Snips urged me on as I pulled on the fishing line. I felt weight in the pot, and anticipation surged as the trap came into sight. I could see something in there, right in the back corner. It looked like a massive crab. It was—

It was a rock crab.

Sergeant Snips let out a hiss of incomprehensible bubbles, and the rock crab shrank into the corner. I opened the trap and let it out. My guard crab rushed over to it. She unleashed a swift barrage of her claws, giving light taps to its carapace that didn’t do any damage.

The crab looked sufficiently chastised, dropping its body to the sand and blowing bubbles of embarrassment. They appeared to have a conversation, exchanging claw gestures and hiss-like sounds.

Sergeant Snips scuttled to the side, pointing at the other crab, then at a spot on the sand. The freed crab dipped its head in acquiescence, stood on the patch of sand shown, and turned its back to us, looking out at the ocean.

“. . . Snips? What are you—”

In a single movement, she darted to the crab, put both her claws under its body, and flung it out to sea. The rock crab let out a notably cute eeeeeeeeee as it sailed up and out toward the horizon, its body eventually splashing down twenty meters from the shore. She dusted her claws off, nodded, then turned back to me.

I raised an eyebrow and smirked at her. “A little discipline, huh?”

She shrugged with both claws, shaking her carapace in mock dismay.

I put another baitfish in the pot. “Would you mind placing this out into the water, Snips?”Ne/w novel chapters are published at novelhall.com

She clacked her claws sharply, grabbed the metal frame, and dragged it out into the depths.

When she got back, I bent down, putting on my most persuasive voice.

“I know you didn’t want me going into the village yesterday, but how do you feel about me grabbing a coffee and pastry before we get started on the day’s fishing?”

She looked toward the village, looked back at me, appearing to consider the proposition. After a long moment, she blew happy bubbles, gesturing toward Tropica and nodding.

“All right! I’ll be right back!”

She waved goodbye with a single claw.

Still not enough to justify that level of fury, though . . .

“No worries,” I said over my shoulder, already planning what I could wear tomorrow to piss her off even more.

I’d been cognizant of the fact that getting a machine for Sue might affect the sole existing café in the village, especially with the price Sue could offer the coffee. If the rest of the north siders had the same prejudice as Lena, however, they probably wouldn’t come to the south side of Tropica and mingle with who they saw as less than.

After meeting the woman, I don’t particularly care if Sue takes all of her business.

I breathed in the rising fragrance of my mug, then took a sip of the coffee. It was delicious.

Let capitalism rise.

Sergeant Snips was awaiting me eagerly when I returned, the rising sun reflecting off her glittering carapace as she waved enthusiastically with both claws.

She’d already collected the larger bamboo rod, my bucket, and three of the baitfish from where I’d buried them in a tea towel. Her body went tense, and she cocked her head, looking between me and the fish, the question clear.

“You’re allowed to eat them, Snips,” I said with a laugh. “As long as we have some left to fish with, you don’t need my permission.”

She relaxed, almost seeming to sigh, and started snacking on one.

“You ready to go?”

She bubbled her joyous assent between bites, and I followed her down to the shore.

I found a spot on the rocks where ocean met river. Snips settled down beside me, content to watch. I placed an entire baitfish on the large hook, and breathing deep of the sea spray and wind, started whirling the end of the line round and round.

I let go, casting it out into the water. The moment between letting go of the line and when the rock hit the water was a welcome flash of silence. Only the sound of water lapping at the rocks could be heard, and we both watched the sinker and fish-laden hook arc high into the sky.

A few seconds later, they hit the water with a soft plop, and I held the rod out to let the line freely travel. It went taut, and I felt the thump of it hitting the sandy floor. The tide was still running out, but had almost stilled, telling me the tide would soon turn.

“Dawn is a great time for fishing, as is when the tide turns,” I said to Snips. “I’d wager having both at the same time gives us a splendid chance of catching something!”

She looked at the line, her eyestalk and posture broadcasting the curiosity she felt. I took a seat beside her, and we sat in companionable silence. I held my hand on the top of her carapace, finding comfort in the feel of her. I closed my eyes and bathed in the moment.

The smooth wood of the bamboo in my hand, the line taut and softly pulling when waves atop the water crossed its path; the cool, sturdy carapace of Sergeant Snips, her body seeming to radiate vigor; the sound of the churning river and ocean meeting; the calm breeze that blew fitfully, coming and going in sporadic bursts of varying intensity; and the calls of gulls and other birds singing their beautiful songs to greet the sun that shone down on me, warming my skin—all served to ground me in the moment, no thoughts strong enough to break through the all-encompassing sensations of the body.

Tug.

I removed my hand from Snips, placing it firmly around the rod to join the other.

Tug.

My eyes remained closed as I tightened my grip.

Bump . . . tug.

I heard the soft sounds of Snips standing, responding to the hits.

Tug, tug, TUG.

The fish swallowed the bait, and I roared a laugh of delight as I finally opened my eyes. The bamboo rod bent down at a ninety-degree angle, the enormous fish doing its best to swim away, thrashing its head and making the rod tip shake. Joy and excitement flooded my entire being as I shot to my feet.

“Fish on, Snips!”