Heretical Fishing

Chapter 40: Claws

Barry sat straight backed, his legs crossed before him as the sun started to peek over the eastern horizon.

“This was such a good idea, Barry,” Maria said.

Roger harrumphed from the other side of his daughter. “It’s lovely, but we have fields to work.”

“Dad, you are such a grump—we have all day to work, and Barry even offered to help us. The least we can do is take a few minutes to enjoy the sunrise with him.”

“You aren’t obligated to join me; I’ll help you two with your field, regardless. I invited you to join me because this is the best way to start the day.”

“Well,” Maria said, “I, for one, am glad you suggested it. We’ve been so busy lately. I can’t tell you the last time we took a moment to appreciate the beautiful village we live in.”

Roger grunted, somewhere between agreement and annoyance at what he perceived to be a waste of time.

Should I ask them now? Barry thought.

He took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.

No time like the present, I suppose . . .

“I’m sorry if this is overstepping, but is it all right if I ask you about your mother, Maria? It’s Sharon, right?”

“What does my wife have to do with this, Barry?”

Roger’s tone was hard as a rock, and Barry opened his eyes to peer at the farmer. Roger glared back, his eyes flinty, his expression flat.

“Fischer told me she’s been having some health issues. I just wanted to know what her ailment was, because I might be able to help her.”

Maria covered her father’s face with a hand, pushing him back lightly.

“Geez, Dad—can you drop the hackles for one second? You keep assuming the worst of people.”

Roger turned his gaze on his daughter. “Maybe you’re just too trusting, Maria—you take after your mother.”

Maria nodded. “That’s a good thing, you stone-headed oaf. What on Kallis could Barry do with the knowledge that Mom is sick?”

“What could he do to help with that information? Last I checked, you’re a farmer too, Barry—what can you do that we can’t?”

Barry held his hands up, trying to diffuse Roger’s anger. “Please, indulge me. We’ve dealt with a lot of odd ailments in our family, all of which we cured with natural remedies,” he lied.

Roger’s scowl deepened, and Maria sighed.

“Forgive Dad. He’s overprotective.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Would you share with me, though?”

Roger stood. “I’m going back to the fields. Say what you will, Maria.”

He turned and strode away, swiftly retreating from the shore.

Maria rolled her eyes after he’d left. “I swear, that man . . .”

“It’s not a bad thing to be overprotective,” Barry said. “I can empathize with where he’s coming from.”

They lapsed into silence, both returning their attention to the rising sun.

Eventually, Maria started talking. “Mom’s sickness is something you can’t see. It began with bouts of dizziness and weakness. Over time, it got worse, and for the last year or so, she’s been bedridden.”

“I’m sorry. That must be hard . . .”

Maria nodded as she continued staring out to sea. “It is. After some searching, we found an alchemist operating out of the village, and we’ve been buying elixirs from him. She doesn’t seem to be getting worse, but she’s also not getting better.”

Barry couldn’t stop both his eyebrows from shooting up.

“The Cult of the Alchemist is in Tropica?”

Maria nodded again, wiping a tear from her eye.

“They are—one of their members is, anyway. It’s extremely expensive, and even with the best elixirs he can craft, she’s not improving.”

“I’m truly sorry, Maria. I’ll ask my wife and see if any remedies we’ve used in the past may be of use,” he lied again. “Her father was a member of the Cult of Growth, and he passed down knowledge of herbs and plants that might be able to help.”

“Thank you, Barry. I’m not sure it’ll help where the alchemists can’t, but honestly, we’re willing to give anything a go.”

Barry smiled at her as he stood. “Don’t mention it. Should we get back to the fields? We don’t want to keep that rock-headed old man of yours waiting.”

Maria laughed, wiping another stray tear from her cheek. “Yeah, we’d better. I’ll never hear the end of it if we linger any longer.”

They walked back toward Fischer’s fields in silence. Maria may have taken Barry’s lack of talking for awkwardness, or perhaps kindness, following her difficult recounting. Neither were true. Barry was planning.

I woke to the light of dawn peeking through my open bedroom door. There was a chill in the air, and I pulled my covers up, relishing the warmth they provided.

“Good morning, Snips,” I yawned.

I extended one arm from the comfort of my nest, feeling for my trusty guard crab. Feeling nothing, I lifted my head, peering out at the room. Sergeant Snips was nowhere to be seen.

Huh.

I’d become accustomed to being awoken by a crab blowing happy bubbles, and I felt a moment of loneliness from her lack of presence.

Maybe she’s out tending the campfire . . .

In a single movement, I threw the bedding aside and stood, stretching my body. I felt much better after a night’s sleep, the minor aches and sore muscles of the previous day already a distant memory.

As I stepped out my front door, I gazed east. The sun was already above the horizon, the purple and pink light of the predawn already long banished by the orange hue of the day to come. I breathed in deep through my nose, the cool, salty air both calming me and banishing the sluggishness of waking.

“Where has that crab of mine gotten off to . . . ?”

A thought startled me, and my eyes went wide.

Not just my crab—my otter, too!

I grinned as excitement and joy coursed through me.

An otter I have to name!

First, I checked the campfire; the coals had died overnight, untended as they were. Next, I made my way around the headland. I walked from the south, finding neither carapace nor hair of my animal companions as I followed the coast. I walked for the crab pot, intending to check it, but a flicker of movement caught my eye. To the northwest, a pile of sand climbed high above the flat landscape. I felt my eyebrows furrow as my partially sleep-addled mind tried to make sense of what I saw. At least a shovel worth of sand shot up over the side of the mound, adding itself to the hill.

“What the . . .” I walked toward the anomaly, unsure of what I was going to find.

As I got closer, I noted the sand cresting the mound was wet. I walked up the side and found myself speechless. It wasn’t a hill—it was a hole. A massive hole, and my two friends were within.

The otter was beneath water that filled the hole, swimming in circles and dredging up impressive amounts of sand. Snips was on the inside wall, taking the dredged-up sand and flicking it up and out of the excavation site.

“Woah . . .” I said aloud, my speechlessness overcome by shock.

Snips and the otter both paused, as if caught in a nefarious act. They peered at me with inscrutable looks, then as one, rushed me. Snips blew a trail of happy bubbles, gesturing at the surrounding creation with chaotic movements of her claws. She tried to encompass everything at once with her erratic pointing. The otter made a half-chittering, half-squealing noise, her body gliding through the water to reach the side closest to me.

They both reached me at the same time, a hard carapace and a furred body running around my legs and rubbing up against me.

I giggled in delight. “Good morning, ladies!”

They both pulled back, stared at me in a moment of silence, then blurted out indiscernible hisses, bubbles, and chittering chaos. They glared at each other, the silence returning with their accusatory stares.

“I’m happy to see you guys, too!” I said with a laugh. “What have you two made? A saltwater pond?”

They nodded vigorously, Snips with her entire body, the otter with rapid-fire head movements.

“It’s

huge!” I raised my eyes to take in their creation now that the mystery of its existence was solved.

It was at least ten meters across from east to west, and twenty meters from north to south. The walls were three to four meters tall, and the bottom of the pond was already filled to the halfway point with salty water seeping in through the sand.

“Did . . . did you two work all night?”

Again, they nodded, now with more calm.

“I . . . can’t believe it . . .”

I bent down, patting them both to let my elation out. “You two are amazing! I don’t think I could have done this myself in a single night!”

Snips bubbled happily and closed her eye as I scratched her.

The otter extended her head into my rubs, staring at me with big golden-retriever energy.

“Are you done, or do you plan to make it bigger?”

Snips and the otter reacted as one again, stretching both their forelimbs out wide.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “What do you two say to some breakfast, first? You don’t have to finish it all right now, and I’m sure you both need some rest after a full night of digging.”

They both nodded, their eyes gleaming.

If I was being honest, I was still a little unsure of the name I’d offer my otter pal when I woke up. I hoped it would come to me as I lay in bed, but I’d fallen asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I knew, however, that it would come to me.

My food sat untouched as I watched Snips and the otter devour theirs. If the average villager were to walk by and catch sight of the decimation before me, they’d probably be horrified. Me? I was ecstatic they were enjoying themselves and my cooking.

As usual, Snips ate the crab whole, carapace and all. The otter had started by using her trusty rock, but after a pause, did something astounding. She held a paw out, and with a small flex, extended five ridiculously sharp claws. She swiped down, obliterating the cooked crab in front of her. Her head cocked back, seemingly startling herself with her own strength and efficacy. The astonishment only lasted a brief second, and she quickly started collecting chunks of crab meat with her agile paws, shoveling them into her mouth.

At that moment, I was struck with inspiration, and her name came to me.

. . . it can wait until after breakfast.

I started eating too, and the wonderful flavor swept me away. Adding salt to the water was a game changer. The increased salinity clung to the shell and seemed to spread throughout, adding a rich depth to the sweet meat within. When I sucked the cracked limbs, salty juices joined the flesh and a groan of contentment escaped me.

“Oh, man, this is unreal,” I said around a mouthful.

They both nodded, Snips crunching away, the otter chewing adorably.

Before I knew it, I was finished, and I let out a sigh after eating the last bite. “How was it, ladies?”

Snips bubbled happily from the sand. The otter let out a soft chirp, lounging on my other side, and I turned to her.

“I wanted to ask—do you have a name?”

She glanced up at me lazily, shaking her head.

“Do . . . do you want one?”

She sat up, her eyes considering me with a spark of intelligence.

She gave a single nod.

“How do you feel about the name Corporal Claws?”

Blinking, she shot toward me. She leaned her upper body against my leg, nodding and chirping incessantly.

I smiled and let out a small laugh. “I’m glad you like it!”

I stroked Corporal Claws’s head, causing her to close her eyes and lean into me.

I felt Snips press up against my other side, and before she could complain, I started petting her, too.

My little family has grown . . .