It was a frigid day; the air was too crisp and fresh to stay cooped up, however, and Wayne McCoy had been glad to leave the static pack lands and run out into the surrounding forest. He’d heard of a nice river that ran through Ethereal Eclipse, and so he’d brought some rope and one of the baskets that Dixie had so lovingly crafted. He was craving some fish…and hopefully it would be easy to catch them, if he was lucky. He was sure to bring back a few extra for the pack after he’d gotten something in his empty stomach, but right now he had to find the river he’d heard whispering his last time loping through these lands.
Wayne began to regret not riding Fern out here, as she could help him carry more supplies, but then again, the large mare would have a hard time navigating through the thick undergrowth, and who knew what feral animals lurked in the neutral territories. While it would have been nice to have saddle bags for his things, it would not be worth it to get thrown from the large mare and break his arm. Some use he’d be to the pack then.
Whistling a tune as he picked his way carefully through the thick trees, glad at least that the fallen leaves allowed light to filter down from above, the Labrador cross finally found the river. Brown eyes quickly scanned the area before he found a tree with a thick branch sticking out over the river. Grinning, he tied the end of the rope to the basket and shimmied up the tree.
“I miss fishin’ for channel cat,” Wayne said to himself as he scooted out on the branch, glancing down into the water. “Too cold to jump in, though.” He lowered the basket down on the rope into the water, glad that it was somewhat clear. He was sure that a fish would swim into the basket, and if he felt any weight, he could pull it right out of the water. It wasn’t particularly simple, but he didn’t want to risk scaring them away or wading into the fast current, even if he was a very strong swimmer. Dixie had more elaborate traps back home, but the basket he’d taken had been one of her earliest ones, not quite as sturdy as the others; that was why he’d known that she wouldn’t miss it. Or at least he hoped—a fish might soften her up if she did get mad.
Thankfully, someone was looking out for him; the rope wiggled with the weight of a fish bumping into the basket, and he pulled. He was glad to see a few wriggling inside, small but more than a mouthful when put together. They swam around in the slowly draining basket, and he ate some raw before lowering the basket back into the water again. Hopefully a larger one would come along; that one he would clean and take the time to cook.
.waywa2 b {font-weight:bold; color:#e1d7b8; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #61501d; }
.waywa2 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 16px; margin:0px;}
.waywa2 {margin:0 auto; width:450px; background-color:#c8ba99; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/S5Qbw.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #0b052c; padding: 253px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#867555; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #; letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13.3px; text-align:justify;}</style>
[/html]