Word Count :: 500+ Nothing wrong with short when it’s good!
One wasn’t raised in the brothels of Russia around swarthy, questionable men without learning how to operate a lighter. She perked up when she saw the instrument, a broad smile brightening her face. Liliya nodded graciously as she took the tool from him, her fingers automatically wrapping around the item just as they should go. “Sank you.” She reached out to the kindling, cupping one hand around the lighter to protect it from the wind and flicking her thumb. A spark lit the air but the flame didn’t catch, so she tried again, and again. “Baah!” She grumbled at it and shook the lighter just as Denver had before. Yep, there was fluid in it but her slender hand wasn’t blocking the breeze well enough to allow the flame to thrive.
Just then the bells erupted in a cacophony of tinkling and chiming. Her ears perked and she jumped to her feet. ”Here, you make fire!” The lighter made an arc in the air as it popped out of her hand with a flick of the wrist and soared back toward Denver. If he couldn’t get it, well, the fire could wait. The fish? No, it just might slip off the line any moment.
“Woah!” she yelped as her hands shot out and grabbed the pole. The wood was bent over in a dramatic arch. Her gray eyes were wide with a rarely displayed mirth as she wrapped a firm grip around the pole and tugged back on the line. This one was a fighter! A laugh of pure glee pierced the night, trilling above the gentle calm of the bayside waves. She worked to pull the creature to land, drawing the line in hand over hand since her home made pole didn’t have a reel. The line slipped a few times and it was a careful wager between Luperci and beast for a moment, but before long Liliya’s expertise won over the fish and she hauled the flopping creature out of the water.
“Ah ha!” She exclaimed triumphantly as she hoisted the fish into the air. The creature struggled at the end of the line but Liliya held her arm steady, and soon the only movement from the thing was the occasional puffing of the gills. She inspected it, then held it out so Denver could see. It was almost as long as her own torso. “Is cod! Has to be about…” she pumped her arm, testing the weight, ”12, 13 fund at least! Not bad for inshore catch. The Salsoan sea is ripe for pickingk!”
She moved over to the rock she’d been leaning on before and, taking the fish by the tail, slapped it down hard against the rock. There was a crunch, and every movement after that was nothing more than muscle reflex. “Normally I not do that, heads good for soup makingk but I am not thinkingk I vhill make soup before it spoils. Poison pack? Not good. No. I vhill not.”
Leaving the fish there, she went to retrieve the knife from her bag. On her way past Denver she nudged him on the shoulder. “The sea, I think she likes you, eh? Not single feesh bitingk until you come around. How about the fire, eh, she like you too?” She chuckled merrily as she grabbed the knife and began scaling the fish.
Image courtesy of 24730945@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
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