That Sinking Feeling

He decided being grounded was stupid. He hated being stuck in the sparse pines just because he went to meet with his friend, and he hated not being allowed to go to the festival even though theta and incendio got to go. He hated everyone and everything and he especially hated his dad.

He padded over the snow dappled with pine needles walking rebelliously toward the ship, watching his footing as the ground shifted from  permafrost to sheer ice. Under him he could see fish swimming in the black water, and seals frolicking below in the depths, he might have stopped to stare some more but he was determined to go against his fathers wishes and go to the ship whether he liked it or not. In his jaws he held his spear, the antler tip still red with beaver blood from his first successful hunt, the end now able to lift off the ground with his most recent growth spurt. He was almost a year old now and had grown tall along with his brother Tyto. They would both be giants like their great-uncle, he was sure and then he could pick on his much smaller dad all he wanted… Assuming his dad never struck back. He had to admit the thought scared him slightly. Their dad fought bears, and the great scratched helm he wore was intimidating. The more he thought of it the less appealing going against his father seemed, and for a moment he considered turning back.

He sat on the ice with a huff, trying to decide what he would do, when a strange scent reached his nostrils, the scent of fish and brine. He wrinkled his nose at the assault, but against his better judgement pushed on to investigate. As he moved under the shadow of the great ship the scent became stronger, until he was near the shoreline where he could hear the barking of seals and the shrill scream of sea birds. At a glance the shore seemed to be covered in sparkling stones, dotted with the great lumbering bodies of seals and penguins who seemed to be swallowing the stones whole. He stepped closer, a spray of seagulls taking wing as the large predator investigated and felt his ear flick with curiosity. They were fish, hundreds- no, thousands- of fish lining the shore, some of them still in their death throes as they were pushed against the icey shore. He looked back the way he had come, convinced that this was some sort of hallucination but found no one there to confirm that what he was seeing was real. He adjusted his grip on his spear and flung it into a dark patch of warring seals who abandoned their fight and fled into the sea as the projectile landed with a thunk on the stony shore.

He approached the spear after the seals fled and sniffed at the fish that the lumbering creatures had left behind, his tail lashing behind him as the fish beneath his paws gasped and flailed on the ground. It seemed fresh enough but why had all the fish washed up on the shore? He settled down with the fish between his paws and ripped into it, hot blood filling his mouth as he ate. It tasted good, the tingle of saltiness on his tongue pleasant as he ate at the pale flesh. He ate in silence, eating the frail bones and organs, although they tasted like sand. He decided he would need to try another, and then another, until he was fully satiated, the glassy bones sticking in his throat so he had to wash them down with a chunk of ice he kept between his teeth until it melted. He didn’t feel sick, well, his stomach did hurt, but that was because he had eaten so much, but he didn’t think the fish themselves had been poisoned or were ill. He lifted his spear and continued his investigation, a fox had joined the feast and quickly scampered off with a mouth full of fish as he approached. He would have considered taking a mouthful of fish himself if he didn’t fear that his father would find out where he had gotten them and punish him further. He sighed slightly, his gaint off tilt with his distended stomach and turned to look at the pines. Dad would be back soon and he would be in a lot of trouble if he couldn’t find Tornadic when he returned. He turned and raced over the ice, moving as quickly as he could back to the den although the smell of salt water and fish still clung to his fur. That night his punishment would be extended and he wouldn’t be allowed to leave the Pines until the next season. He would gripe and complain that it wasn’t fair but his father had at least told him that after he turned a year old he could go anywhere he wanted.

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