Heretical Fishing

Chapter 18: Wildlife

Snips!” I ran to meet my friend, giving her a good scratch on the carapace. “I was worried about you! Where did you get off to?” Her eyestalk twitched between me and Barry, blowing bubbles of . . . hesitation? Questioning?

“He’s all right, Snips. No need to keep secrets from Barry.”

She nodded firmly, then scuttled back into the river.

What is she up to . . . ?

I raised an eyebrow, not sure what was going on, but she seemed to have recruited more of her kind. There were five of them in total, and they formed an orderly line across the sand next to Snips.

Snips went to the first one, gesturing emphatically at the sand with one of her powerful claws. Its eyes looked at her, and for a moment nothing happened, then she gave it a light smack on the head, and two stones shot out of its mouth. I bent down to look at them—not just stones, they were pearls!

She repeated the same gesture with the other crabs, and a total of eight pearls lay on the sand, each as big as my pinky nail, glittering in the late afternoon sun. I picked them up, an unbelieving smile spreading across my face.

“Snips! You beautiful little scamp! Where did you find so many?”

She bubbled in delight, puffing her body up and swaying with joy. She turned and made a shooing gesture, and the five rock crabs scuttled off into the river.

I picked up the pearls, walking back toward Barry. “You’re just in time for dinner, Snips! You deserve a reward for this!” She scuttled beside me, preening the entire way.

“Have you seen these before, Barry?” I held out the naturally formed stones, and his eyebrows shot up.

“No . . . what are they? They look almost like gems . . .”

“Technically, they’re stones, but they can form naturally in oysters.” I petted Sergeant Snips with my other hand. “This little scallywag gathered them with her crabby friends.”

“I wonder what they’re worth,” he said. “I could see them being used in some pretty high-end stuff, Fischer. It’s a shame they’re from the sea.”

“Er—maybe you can keep that tidbit to yourself, mate. I don’t want to go devaluing them.”

He nodded, giving me a conspiratorial look. “Not a problem, especially if you intend on selling them to the people on the north side of Tropica . . .”

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I barked a laugh. “But of course! Who else could afford such prestigious gems, definitely gathered from the ground, and not the mouths of shellfish?”

We grinned at each other, and I started running plans in my head for how to market and sell the stones.

I know I didn’t want to engage in any business, but these could allow me the freedom to fish to my heart’s content!

When the cooked crab had sufficiently cooled, I snapped off a leg, holding it to Snips. “I didn’t think you’d have any reservations about eating sand crab, but just making sure that’s not an—”

She snatched the leg, shoving it into her mouth. A crunching ground out as she chewed it—shell and all—and she blew a stream of joyous bubbles when she finished devouring the first bite.

Well, that moral dilemma is settled . . .

I pulled a claw off, cracking it between my fingers and sliding the meat out with ease. The smell was intoxicating, and I took a moment to thank the crab for the gift of its flesh before placing it in my mouth. The flesh was sweet and salty, the flavor of it a perfect harmony. I moaned in delight, unable to contain the noise.

“That actually smells quite good . . .” Barry said.

“Why don’t you try just a bit?” I raised an eyebrow. “It’s not as if you lived from the sea—I did all the catching and cooking, after all, and if you don’t eat it, Snips and I are going to.”

Sergeant Snips blew agreeing bubbles as she helped herself to another leg.

“Maybe I’ll try a bite . . .”

I pounced on his weakness, pulled the other front claw off, snapped it open and held out what my home state affectionately calls a Queensland lollipop. I held out the claw, chunk of meat extended, and he timidly grabbed it. Before he could question it any further, he shoved the morsel into his mouth. His face started with obvious trepidation, but was quickly overwhelmed by the objectively delicious taste, changing into an expression of contentment as he chewed and swallowed it.

“I—I gotta get back to the family.” Barry got to his feet, giving the Sergeant and I a curt nod. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Cheers for the company, mate! Take care!”

“Bye Fischer, farewell Sergeant Snips.” He retreated toward his farmland with a purposeful gait.

I raised an eyebrow at Snips, to which she shrugged adorably. “What the hell do you reckon that was about?”

Barry had to leave. He knew if he had stayed any longer, he wouldn’t have been able to turn down any more of the heretical food. He’d been unable to stop himself upon smelling it, but after tasting it . . . an entirely different desire had overcome him.

The flesh was sweet, covered in a layer of the savory water it was boiled in. The aroma promised a unique experience, and the flavor of it far surpassed that which was expected.

His need for more warred with his upbringing, the pressure of societal standards battling with his want for more. His thoughts were a jumbled disarray of back-and-forth arguments—even now, he wanted to turn, to run back and have just one more bite.

Fischer would allow me, wouldn’t he? He was more than willing to share . . . He shook his head, deciding it was best to return to his family and forget the lingering urges. He picked up the pace, jogging home across the sand flats.

If he were more in control of himself, Barry may have noticed the strength flooding through his muscles, the essence of a single claw suffusing his very being. His strides were long, and nary a single drop of sweat formed as he began sprinting, trying and failing to outrun his yearning.

It was a picturesque sunrise on the shore of my property. The sun was high, a sea of clouds above me painted pink and standing out among their pale-blue backdrop. Fish were swimming through the sky, and I watched in delight as they danced and flew in great, circling arcs.

A fish slapped me in the face, and I recoiled. Another fish hit my other cheek, appearing from nowhere.

Huh?

I tried to stumble back, but my legs wouldn’t move. Something hit my chin, popping and making a sense of disorientation overwhelm my peace.

Bubbles? W-what . . . ?

My eyes flew wide to see a crab’s face taking up my entire field of view. I shuffled back, realizing I was in my bed, the predawn light leaching into my bedroom through the open door.

Sergeant Snips made an irate noise and spewed a torrent of bubbles, following my retreat and slapping both my cheeks with her claws one at a time.

“W-woah, Snips,” I said, wiping bubbles of anger from my chin. “I’m awake. What’s wrong?”

She scuttled off the bed, running to my open door and gesturing for me to follow. I trailed her, stretching and rubbing my eyes as I tried to gain comprehension.

She led me outside, and when we got there, I could hear a rhythmic tapping, like a hammer on a nail somewhere in the distance. Snips ran ahead of me ten meters at a time, stopping every time she got too far and waving me on wildly with her claws. The stream of bubbles had never stopped.

Man, something has really set her off . . .

The sound grew louder, the rhythmic tapping pausing at times before resuming their incessant march.

We got to the headland, and as she rounded it ahead of me, the spew of bubbles tripled and she used her entire body, along with her claws, to gesture emphatically at whatever was creating the ruckus.

I finally reached the Sergeant, the percussive noises tapping ever louder. I laid eyes on another creature, and my freshly woken mind struggled to make sense of what I was seeing. There was an otter on the jutting stone of the headland, bashing a rock into a bed of oysters. The lid of a mollusk flew away, and with a deft movement, the creature bent and sucked it into their mouth.

“What the fuck . . . ?”

The otter heard me, and shot its head toward us, the rock held high in two cute paws. We looked at each other for a long moment, no one moving or making a sound. Then, with its eyes still locked on me, the otter swung the rock down on an oyster.

This blatant disregard for our presence was enough to send Sergeant Snips into a frenzy, and she scuttled angrily toward the interloper, making a C’Thulian hiss. The otter retreated, diving into the sea with its rock as Snips clacked her claws and shot attacks through the now empty air. The guard crab leaped in after it, and I had a moment of serene quiet as they both disappeared beneath the waves.

A cool breeze tickled my skin, and I breathed deep of the sea spray it dragged along with it. I looked out at the water lapping the rocks, reflecting the light of the sun that threatened to breach the horizon.

The otter emerged on the rocks, twenty meters from where it was before, and gave me a sidelong glance as it resumed smashing a different section of oysters. It ate one, started hitting the next, and a rabid crab emerged behind it. Sergeant Snips blew bubbles of fury as she scuttled at it, the clacking of claws replacing the chorus of rock against shellfish. The otter dashed away, slipping easily back beneath the surf, and Snips flew in after it.

Another momentary reprieve, then the otter emerged from the sea closer to where I stood, once more resuming its meal as it monitored me. When the seething crab emerged after it, I yelled, “Snips! Stop!”

The otter disappeared again, and Sergeant Snips seemed to huff as her lone eye shot between me and the ripples where the creature dove.

“Come here, Snips.” She came to me, the raving bubbles tinged with confusion. “It’s all right, Snips.”

I bent and scratched her carapace, trying to reassure the fuming crustacean. “I don’t think we could stop it if we tried, and besides, it’s all right to share our land with the wildlife.”

She gestured at the oyster beds, at me, and then back to where the otter had retreated, physically shaking with indignation.

“I know,” I said, rubbing her top with slow strokes. “I know you want to protect our place, and it can be incredibly frustrating to be ignored, but it really is okay.”

The otter emerged again, this time far away. With little regard for our existence except occasional glances, it started smacking the rock down again.

Before Snips could race off, I spoke. “Let’s just leave it for now, all right? There are heaps of rocks, and plenty of oysters besides. Should we go catch some breakfast? Maybe I can get you a nice fat fish?”

She bristled but accepted my words, only flinching a little at the sound of the otter’s tool descending as we walked back to the house.

“Can you carry this for me, Snips?” I asked, holding out the smaller rod and giving her a distracting task.

She nodded and took it, still clearly conflicted by having something else on the headland and actively taking from my property.

I grabbed everything else needed and began leading her up the river and further from the otter, when a voice cut through the otherwise silent air.

“Fischer! You here?”

“Hide,” I said to Snips. She picked up on the urgency in my voice, dropping the rod and scuttling into the river. I saw her single peeper emerge, poking almost imperceptibly above the surface.

“Over here, Sebastian!” I yelled, walking toward the voice.

“There you are, my friend!” the lobster cultist said, stepping over the sands and giving me a broad smile.

It seemed to me the first genuine smile I’d gotten from the man, so I returned it, happy to see him in good spirits.

“Good to see ya, mate! What brings you here?”

“Coffee, of course!” he said, presenting a mug of the aromatic liquid.