fishing frenzy

The collie much preferred to be with his beloved mistress, but he was on his own today. He’d been with her for some time now, and it hadn’t taken long for him to feel strongly about her. His respect was freely given along with his undying loyalty. He tried to overlook the time she spent without him, and understood he had no place demanding anything of her. Still, he regretted that she wasn’t at his side when his white paws carried him over the smooth stone beach of the ravine. Icy blue eyes took in the choppy waters, the same cloud gray color as the sky. He looked out over the ominous horizon, but it was the water that really caught and kept his attention.

Thousands of fish seemed to have swarmed up and down the coast of Ashen. Bourbon’s eyes grew wide as he rushed towards the waves. He wasn’t much taller than they were as he approached the shore. He might get a little wet today, but at least he had Luce’s side to look forward to when he was done fishing. Surely the dog would easily be able to provide a few days worth of food for himself and his mistress. He hadn’t dired or smoked fish in a long time, and he wondered if the Shamyn had tried either method of consuming fish. Bourbon knew the woman was picky about how she ate. If the dog could find a way to easily prepare her food, he’d do so. She needed to put on a few pounds before winter arrived anyway.

With his gaze trained on the comings and goings of the water the dog tried to formulate his plan. There were so many… if he could go in a little ways and make his body like a plow, and force the fish onto land. He thought for a moment, and looked up to see the seabirds just as eager about this occurrence as he was. He could easily spend all day harvesting fish, he better get to work. First he dug a hole in the sand, he was going to have to keep his catch from the thieving birds that were eyeing him hard. He dug four medium sized holes, and planned to mark them with a stick when he filled them with sand so he didn’t inadvertently lose his catch. With how cold it was.. if he could mark the holes better the fish could remain there for a day or two before he got around to preserving them. Hopefully he didn’t run into any inclement weather or he would have to enlist one of the pack to assist him.

With no more hesitation Bourbon took to the water, as expected it was cold so he wouldn’t be able to continue on the whole day like he wished. His whole body tensed with the temperature of the water as he swam through the thick school of fish. Aiming to use his chest and arms to push the fish from the water his first attempt was more lucrative than he expected. Five big fish were rushed onto the sand as Bourbon found his footing and returning himself and his haul up onto the sand. He panted, but shivered a bit as the wind blew at his wet coat. He was not a water retriever. This activity would be lucrative though.

The dog ushured his flopping fish into the first hole and covered them with a layer of sand before turning back to the ocean to take another armful of flopping fish. He repeated this exercise over again, reaping the benefits of the strange occurrence. He harvested the silver fish by fours and fives, and despite the cold he found himself quickly filling up the holes he’d dug previously. The dog couldn’t have felt more accomplished. Already he was dreaming of the oily protein on a cold winters day. He didn’t have a smoker set up yet, but the Klein Harbringr held the secrets of fire so he wouldn’t be forced to work terribly hard to get what he wanted in the end.

Bourbon continued to harvest the fish until his limbs were sore and his toes cold enough that he couldn’t feel them anymore. He’d done a hard day’s work but the benefits would be far reaching. By the end of the winter he would likely be tired of eating preserved fish, but for now he’d look forward to it. Panting heavily the dog brought in his last haul. This one he would take directly to the den. He liked to see if he couldn’t convince Lucretia to try a bit of sushi. These seemed like rather fatty fish, and he was eager to try them out. For now the dog flopped down on his side near his piles of buried fish. With a still wriggling one beneath his paws Bourbon decided to try to eat the succulent fish.

wc:823