Catch and Release

The day was slightly overcast, and Murtagh cursed the sun refusing to come out. The day just had to be cloudy and the water dark when he wanted to fish. On the days he needed to weed his garden or hunt, the sun was always bright and in his eyes, but when he needed it of course it would retreat behind clouds. Yet it seemed his luck wasn't entirely run out as he felt a tug and then the definite pull of a bite.

He exclaimed out an excited holler, alarming Abrivhr who had been weaving aside of him, before he yanked the pole and the fish sprung out from the water. He let it hang in the air, flopping and dripping lamely, before he caught it and unhooked it.

He held the large fish proudly, its scales glistening and gills wildly extended and contracted to try and adjust. He was going to eat well tonight.

Abrivhr threw aside the new straw hat she'd been making Murtagh and grabbed the fish before throwing it back into the mini-lake. It did not waste a second after it hit the water's surface to swim away.

Murtagh stared at his now-empty hands and thought of his still-empty stomach before turning to her, feeling his shoulders hunch in barely-contained anger. That had been his dinner! He had been recalling what recipe to use in excitement!

"What was that for?" Murtagh asked as he stalked the short distance over to her, looming above her with his height and frown.

"It had been dying and scared," she said, her voice tight.

Murtagh huffed again, his shoulders now up to his ears, but then Thorn came in and took away his anger without even twitching from his sprawled position among the yellow wildflowers. Now feeling like a fool, Murtagh sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. When he turned back to Abrivhr, he saw she was now the tense one.

"Now what am I going to eat?" he asked with a defeated air.

Her eyes lit up at that, and she hurried to pull something out from her tunic. She opened the small pouch and held it up for him to look into. Murtagh saw a variety of colors, and his nose twitched at the sweetness. It was a variety of berries, all seeming to be picked at their ripest (because of course the elves never took the life of anything remotely young) and he could have fit the small amount easily in the palm of one hand.

Murtagh had all intentions to snort, push her away and resume fishing, but Thorn interrupted again. While before the dragon had been gracious by taking his rider's annoyance, this time he gave an ominous growl.

Feeling cornered, Murtagh felt a pang of empathy for the fish (that quickly turned to jealousy as it had been released).

Sighing, the rider extended his hand and Abrivhr gave the berries to him with a small smile.

Color theme: 082. Jazzberry; Word Count: 500

Posted on the 17th of December, 2011