|
Post by Jack on Dec 28, 2022 19:22:14 GMT -6
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:25:11 GMT -6
There was something to be said about using a dented metal bucket as a seat, one with a protruding lower rim to keep the base of the bucket from laying flat against the ground. And, for Alma, that something came after the sounds of rustling fabric and creaking metal, and sounded like a list of curses directed at whoever created the bucket as she stood back up. Her bobber was still floating, and so she kicked the bucket behind her, adding to the dents pocketing the surface as she sent it over stones making up the beach.
And the pile of supplies she had laid out behind her.
The curses exploded for a breath, then the rod’s handle was jammed between stones and mud and her shout lapsed into more mutterings as she crouched beside her scattered supplies. Soak had looked up at the noise, blinking slowly as he considered the big thing, then looked away from her to the riverbed nearby. 21
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:26:06 GMT -6
The hooks were the hardest part. The lures were bright and easily tossed back into the tarp with a moment’s care to not grab them by the hooked ends, and to see that the bucket had not damaged them beyond a short trip onto the drying mud. The larger items, containers of bait and treats and lead, and a spool of extra line, had also been mostly intact, with a little escaping worm resealed back into the box before joining the pile of bait. But it was the hooks she had to be the most careful with, grabbing them by their pierced ends one at a time, somehow avoiding getting more than one barbed tip lodged in her gloves. That it had only been a single tip, and curved to scratch rather than pierce her finger when she removed the glove and worked it through, was a blessing all on its own.
She was lost in thought about whether or not to bother fixing such a small hole as the sarane stood up for the first time since he had been dragged there. 22
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:26:52 GMT -6
She afforded the river a quick glance, the bobber still not living up to its name, then dragged the rest of her supplies higher up the bank, past the stones laid on drying mud to the rockier beach stones that had not felt the touch of the river in months. She left them there by the dented bucket, now turned back upright to stand beside the one full of water, stretching her arms up to the sky and wondering if she had found all of the hooks, if the handful of credits it would cost to get more of them would be better than digging her already damaged gloves into the mud just in case others had sunk beneath the surface.
And then the sarane squealed.
Alma gritted her teeth to keep from yelling at the hatchling, her glare fixing on him with an intensity that might have steamed any leftover water from his scales. 23
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:27:31 GMT -6
It was a heartbeat later that the tension in her jaw fell away, and she gaped for another few beats at the suddenly rising water that the sarane was trying to claw his way up the bank to avoid. Then she was slipping and sliding down the bank to him, reaching out with one gloved hand while the other was held out for balance. The sarane clamped down on the palm the instant she reached him. “Bastard!” She reached for him with her other hand even as she cursed him, the water now splashing her as his hindlegs kicked out.
It was when her hand closed upon the rope, the thick, heavy duty rope that she was sure could survive the teeth of a gnawing sarane, that she realized why Soak had not simply scrambled up the mud to the safety of the rocks. She looked to where she had driven the metal stake, or rather at the foaming water that was now there. 24
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:28:25 GMT -6
She let go of the rope, felt the teeth dig into her glove and made moot the point of whether or not the hook-hole warranted replacing the whole thing. She knew he would not let go, not even as the water covered them both. She knew, as she pulled her gutting knife free of its sheath, that he might somehow survive until the water went back down, or at least until after she had been drowned by the mud and slime rising above the edges of her boots.
She reached out with the knife hand, holding the head of the sarane and her trapped hand just above the water as she tried to pick out where his body hid beneath the muck, blindly waving the knife under the water until the blade caught on something and she sawed with as much speed as her cold-numbed hand could manage.
Then she was stumbling back out of the water as it rose to follow her, falling with a frozen rock of a hand and a painfully burning one, and she smashed into hard, blessedly dry stone. 25
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:29:09 GMT -6
She let go of the knife as the wind was knocked out of her, but the sarane made no attempt to let go of her hand, and she met his wide golden eyes with a spit and snort, trying to clear her mouth and nose of the watery gunk that had splashed into them. Reaching out with her cold hand, she pried open his jaws just enough to slip her bitten hand out and kept him pinned and squirming under that hand as she inspected the glove. There was blood, tiny pinpricks of red beading up in most of the holes, but nothing dripped from the leather beyond water as she turned it over to check the other side.
She looked over to her pack of supplies laying only a few yards away, ignoring the squeaked complaints of the sarane as she looked back to the already lowering water. “Just had-tah flood for a minute, didn’t yah?” 26
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:30:08 GMT -6
She let go of Soak as she stood, grabbing and sheathing the knife.
Risky, with him being a blue pureblood by the water. Risky, as she wasn’t sure she could stop herself from punting him into the rapidly shrinking river if he decided to tear into her water-filled rubber boots. She sloshed her way over to the supplies with barely a look in his direction, dropping to sit on the rocks with a wince. The rubber boots were the first to be removed, spilling water and weeds as she held them upside down and slapped the heels. Then it was the gloves, adding more water and bits to the stones. The bite on her hand marched partly up her arm, and she rinsed the whole thing with some of her drinking water, toweling it dry with her last spare rag and wrapping what bandages she had around the deeper punctures. She’d have to hope her pure equilion at the kennel would be able to cure any sickness the mud might have brought her. 27
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:30:44 GMT -6
Soak lay on the stones, jaws clamped onto nothing as his body shook less and less with each breath. He knew water. The water in his cage was something to drink and dig in, sometimes sit in. The water he had been brought to, this big water, had been fine at first, but then it had reached for him and he could not get away. He had not been worried until he felt the thing on his back and throat constrict as it held him in place, panic building as the big water grew bigger and he could not move to where he knew he would be safe.
Then the big thing had come to his cries for help, and had taken him out of the water to the stones.
He did not like the big thing. She had given him food and toys before, but now she had taken him into the cold. He liked the big water until he had not, and then the big thing had came and gotten him.
Perhaps he liked the big thing. 28
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:31:25 GMT -6
He stood up on shaky legs, stomach still growling at him, clawing away at his insides and demanding a meal. The big thing had fed him in the past. He had liked the big thing then, liked her as he liked a rock he could climb on in his home and feel big himself. The big thing had not fed him recently, and had dragged him into the cold, and so he had not liked her as he did not like the mud that clung to him, making him feel cold and slow.
He walked to her, silent but not stalking, and this time he did not lunge to attack her. The big thing was too big, was not prey he could drag down and make a meal out of. His rump slid down to the stones as he reached her, stomach growling as he watched her do strange things, wrapping things on her arm and making more noises that sounded angry. 29
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:32:09 GMT -6
He did not want to enrage the big thing, but he was hungry, and the big thing always had food in the past. He waited for as long as he could bear the pressure in his gut, lasting several seconds. The big thing was…friendly? Yes, it had to be. It saved him. It always fed him before. It had to feed him now. The young sarane gathered all his strength and courage to let out a mighty roar of demand that she feed him.
The squeak cut through Alma’s muttered commentary over the condition of her glove.
She spun around with her hands in fists, ready to swing at the sarane before he could make an attack on her unprotected arms. Soak flinched away from her, scuddling back a few inches before planting his rear on the stones once more and making the same begging noise. Alma lowered her fists slightly, watching the sarane for any tensed muscles or changes in stance that would warn of an attack, but he did nothing but cry. 30 ((Soak- 6.0))
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:33:06 GMT -6
“You bite me, drag your ass in the mud all the way here, and now you want a treat? Is that it, Soak?” The sarane squeaked in reply, fluttering his wings as he reached up at the air with his forelegs for a moment. Alma studied him, then shook her head. “I ain’t about to give yah a treat after that nightmare. Even if it was my fault for not recognizing the stones as marking flood heights.” The sarane continued to beg, and she moved into a crouch, opening her hands. “I guess I could train you something,” she said slowly, eyes flicking back to the bag for a beat.”Then you’d know it’s food for good behavior and not,” she flexed her bandaged hand, “for this sort of thing.” She looked back at where her boots and gloves lay drying on the rocks, and laughed again. “Not like I’m going back into that mud for a bit anyhow.” Not that she wanted to go back into the mud at all that day. 31
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:34:28 GMT -6
She reached into the deflated sack of supplies, feeling around until her fingers closed on the small bag she was looking for. A moment later and it was revealed to be a bag of freeze-dried minnows, rather useless as bait as they would fall apart quickly in the water but perfect for treating a young blue sarane. “Would’ve given you a few of these by now, but you’ve been a right pain in my ass.” The sarane cocked his head at her, and squeaked again, paying little attention to the sealed bag. “Now, Soak I figure we ought to start with your name,” Alma said as she opened the bag and pulled out a flaky minnow. The blue sarane lunged with his jaws wide open the instant his eyes met that of the fish's, and Alma yelped a quick “No” before shoving his head aside with her hand.
His lunge thwarted, Soak tripped and had his jaws clicked shut as he hit the stony ground. 32
((Soak No - Start 1))
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:35:09 GMT -6
Alma spared a longing look for her gloves as the sarane recovered from his sudden fall, the air suddenly feeling even more chilly on her bare skin. He turned back to face her with a demanding squeak, shaking out his wings as he drew himself up to his full, less than impressive height. Alma kept the treat in her hand, and shouted “No!” as he lunged for it again, shoving him away as his teeth snapped shut on open air.
They repeated this dance quite a few more times, the lunge from sarane complete with snapping jaws, the cry of no that steadily dropped from a panicked tone to a more even, annoyed one, the hand that slipped under his teeth to push him away. It had been so long since she had tried to train a sarane, or really any creature, that she was starting to wonder whether or not Soak had enough brain power to be trained.
But then he hesitated. It was just a fraction of a second, but he stopped his charge as she said no. And she had just enough time to notice, to prepare herself to toss him the treat with praise when he resumed his lunge.
33 ((Soak No - 2))
|
|
|
Post by Alma on Dec 30, 2022 20:36:01 GMT -6
She felt the moist breath of the sarane on her treat hand that time, bringing up her free hand to shove him away harder than before with a shouted “No!” as his teeth clicked shut near enough her free hand that she swore she felt his scaly snout scrape her hand. Soak went skidding away, and Alma took that time to straighten up slightly, ready for his next charge. And this one came as soon as he had spun around to face her, the beast squeaking as he launched himself back towards the treat.
Alma, frustrated and hungry herself, bellowed “No!” at the sarane as loudly as she could, as though it were only the matter of volume preventing Soak from understanding .
And perhaps it had been, for the sarane skidded to a stop just out of shoving range, body held low and golden eyes staring up at her. “Good,” she said, tossing him the freeze-dried fish, watching it bounce off of his muzzle to land on the rocks. Without taking his eyes off of her, Soak turned his head to the treat, slowly as though he expected her to scream or shove him again, then snapped it up.
34 ((Soak No - 3))
|
|