Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 35: Liberation

Wind rushed past me as I ran from the canopy’s protection and out into the afternoon sun.

With each step I took, a plan came together. I was home in no time and as I entered the kitchen, I beheld a scene of pure chaos.

Sergeant Snips was hissing loudly while softly pulling at Rocky. I raised an eyebrow—she was never one to pull her punches when chastising the insubordinate crustacean.

When I saw what Rocky held, I understood.

His claws and most of his legs were wrapped around a pelican, while his free limbs wrestled with the lid of a pot. He was attempting to shove the bird inside, but Snips was stopping him from doing so, using her strength sparingly so she didn’t hurt the panicked bird. The clang of metal on metal, Snips’s urgent hisses, and the low grunts of the pelican combined and bounced off the walls in a tumultuous cacophony.

“What the fuck, Rocky?”

At my voice, everyone froze—except for the pelican, who took the opportunity to try to escape. It was no use; Rocky was a black belt in whatever gods’ forsaken jujitsu he was using to restrain the bird.

Snips blew a small stream of pleading bubbles at me. Her eye was frantic, showing her worry for the bird’s safety.

“Rocky,” I said, appearing at his side. “You need to let go.”

He blew his own stream of bubbles as he looked between me and the pelican, hissing quietly. The frustration in his message was clear, but a deep confusion was even more prevalent.

At once, I understood.

“Oh. I get it. You caught the pelican so I could feed it food and awaken it, right? That’s... I mean, the intention was nice, I suppose, but this is the wrong way to go about it, mate. We can’t catch wild creatures and force them to...”

I trailed off as Rocky started shaking. Laughter hissed out from his treacherous little mouth. When the hisses subsided, he shook his head, then mimed eating something with his claw.

I gave him a flat look.

“You just wanted to eat it.”

He nodded, shrugging as if to say duh.

“Let go of the bird, Rocky. Now.”

His mouth parts undulated in annoyance, but after only a moment of further consideration, he released the stunned pelican into my arms. As soon as he was clear of the bird, Snips jumped him. She held him down against the bench, looking up at me for orders.

“Your call, Snips. He technically listened to my orders not to harm any wildlife—if we ignore psychological trauma, anyway.”

She nodded and started carrying him outside, no doubt intending to throw him into orbit. She didn’t need to restrain his limbs because he wouldn’t go against her wishes now that a potential meal wasn’t involved, meaning both his claws were free. He used this freedom to make rather rude and threatening gestures as she hauled him out of the kitchen and through the back door.

I looked down at the pelican in my arms, who was silently staring up at me.

“I’m sorry, mate. If Snips or I weren’t here, that little idiot might have turned you into a rotisserie chicken.”

It blinked as I ran one hand over the back of its head, trying to soothe it.

“All right—let’s set you free.”

It didn’t struggle as I walked it outside. Snips was down at the riverbank, chastising the quarrelsome Rocky. I couldn’t hear the intent in her hisses from so far away, but Rocky was shrinking beneath the onslaught. It was the closest thing to genuine remorse I’d ever seen on the crab. Before I could consider it any further, Snips flew into action.

Blue power flowed from her carapace, then sharpened and flared backward. Her body shot at Rocky, and she grabbed him in both claws, spinning to gain momentum. Their bodies became a blur, and just when I thought they wouldn’t go any faster, she released. Rocky resembled nothing so much as a beyblade as he soared out over the ocean.

Or perhaps a frisbee, I thought, watching his limbs splayed outward from centrifugal force.

The pelican tried to move its head, so I let it go.

“Please don’t bite me...”

Instead of violence, its head moved to track Rocky’s forced departure. For a second, I thought it was growing friendly, but I grimaced when I realized it was likely shock or exhaustion stopping it from trying to escape.

I strode down to the ocean with smooth movements and dug in the sand, quickly finding the bait I’d buried there. The pelican peered down at the pungent eel as I bent to pick it up. I washed the sand from it in the river, then offered it to the pelican.

It didn’t open its beak, merely staring at the lifeless bait.

I let out another sigh.

“I’ll probably never see you again after the treatment Rocky gave you, but I hope you live a long and happy life.”

I set it down on the sand beside the eel and backed away.

“Sorry again for the trouble, mate.”

The pelican fluffed its feathers and shook itself, stretching its wings. It turned away and flapped, then paused. Almost as an afterthought, it turned and tested the eel with its overlarge bill. In a single swift movement, it scooped the eel up. The bait disappeared down its gullet, and it spared me one last glance before taking flight. Then, with heavy beats of its wings, the pelican rose into the air above the rivermouth.

It flew to the south, and I stood watching until it was a speck in the far distance. Snips came to stand beside me, and she patted me on the leg reassuringly.

“Thanks, Snips. It’s okay, though.” I rubbed the top of her carapace. “A pelican pal would have been neat, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

I scooped her up, and she settled into the cradle of my arm.

“Are you free for a bit? There’s something I wanna try—it might be a pleasant distraction.”

She gazed up at me, blowing inquisitive bubbles.

I smiled and rubbed her head.

“Remember those bees I showed a while back? I have a plan...”

***

Snips pointed at the jar in my other hand as I carried her over the sands. Her eye was filled with curiosity, and she blew a questioning bubble.

“It’s sugar water,” I explained. “Bees should love it, and I’m hoping to lure them into the hive I made. I have no clue if honeybees will even expand into another hive, but maybe they do, or perhaps I can lure another queen to make a hive there?” I shrugged. “It’s worth a crack.”

She dipped her claw into the sludge and tasted it. Her mouth pieces moved as she considered the sweet flavor, then she shook her head, blowing negative bubbles.

I laughed.

“Not a fan of sweets, huh? It might’ve tasted better to you if I used sugar from Barry’s sequestered crop, but I intentionally used regular old sugar.”

Why, she asked with a hiss.

“Because I don’t want to awaken a bunch of bees accidentally. Who knows what would happen if a cultivator bee stung a villager.”

She nodded along with my train of thought. I ran a hand along the top of her head, and she leaned into it, letting out a soft noise of delight.

“I’ll be silent when we get to the box, all right? I don’t want to spook the bees. Also, I got attacked by a bumblebee earlier when I was there.”

She perked up, casting her gaze about and opening her claws in anticipation.

“Don’t worry,” I laughed, tickling her head with a finger. “It can’t hurt either of us—I just don’t want to accidentally smoosh it.”

When we caught sight of the honeybees streaming to and from the tree, Snips’s eye gleamed. She watched them intently as I strode wide around their hive, giving them plenty of space.

I set her down on the grass and crept forward, keeping my ears peeled for the telltale drone of the bumblebee’s approach. All I could hear was the constant buzz of the honeybees, so I silently lifted the hive’s lid. I poured half the sugar water down the back wall, then tipped more in the corners closest to the entrance.

The entire time, I dreamed of honey.

***

If a bumblebee could feel pride, he would have preened.

The insect had protected his home by chasing away the giant invader. A more-intelligent being may have worried about the glee with which the invader retreated; the bumblebee held no such concern.

He was hunched toward the back of his hive, completely absorbed in the creation of his royal jelly, when the invader returned. His roof was ripped off, and the bumblebee froze.

All of his energy was going into his royal jelly, so he had not the means to defend himself or chase away the attacker. All he could do was sit and hope the giant didn’t find him or his blessed batch of jelly. Something oozed down beside him, and he stepped forward, putting himself between the invading force and the fruits of his labor. It poured toward him, and he walked toward it on painfully sluggish legs. He bit into the growing puddle with his mandibles as it reached him.

The moment he did, he paused—it was delicious.

He immediately began drinking it, refilling his now-empty stomachs. It was so tasty that he completely forgot about the invader—such was the blissfully ignorant awareness of the average bumblebee.

As he continued drinking, the roof was placed back atop his hive, and darkness returned.

***

I scooped up Snips and snuck away with hushed steps.

“Mission accomplished,” I whispered, holding up a fist which Snips bumped with a claw.

I took us back around to the front of the hive, and we stood there together in companionable silence, watching the hypnotic flight of the honeybees.

After a few moments, I hummed contentedly.

“Should we get going? Maybe we can see how that tree spirit thingy is doing on the way back.”

She blew a steady stream of anticipatory bubbles, and I let out a laugh.

“I feel the same—let’s go.”

As we made our way beneath the forest canopy, there were honeybees absolutely everywhere.

“The little suckers are active, huh?”

Snips nodded, her eye once more transfixed by their movement. We walked past Corporal Claws’s favored pond, and I wondered about her whereabouts as I stared at the empty perch she had taken to sleeping on. My unspoken question was almost immediately answered as an otter, wreathed in lightning and grinning malevolently, slammed into my chest.

“Oof!”

I stumbled backward, having not been expecting the blow. Claws writhed in my arms, rubbing herself against both me and Snips rather aggressively.

“I was just thinking about you, Claws,” I said, beaming at her. “What have you been up to?”

She shrugged coyly, giving me a sidelong glance.

“Ooh, a secret?” I reached a hand up to rub my chin. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the tree, would it?”

She froze, blinked rapidly, then gave an unconvincing chirp.

“Not the tree, huh? I guess it won’t matter if we go have a peek at its progress, then—”

Her body went rigid and her eyes flew wide.

I barked a laugh.

“You have a terrible poker face, Claws.”

She opened and closed her mouth, searching for the chirps that would convince me her secret activities weren’t tree-spirit related, but then she slumped and let out a resigned coo.

I laughed again.

“It’s fine, Claws. We don’t have to go see the tree if you’re cooking up a surprise.”

She let out another coo, but this one was filled with relief.

I scratched both of their heads.

“I love you girls—you know that, right?”

They chirped and hissed their affections back at me, their companionship making my chest warm and my steps light.

***

As the pelican flew above the ocean, the sun began to set.

After the earlier encounter, he hadn’t felt safe enough to land. He rested while soaring on unseen currents, letting the food in his stomach digest. An odd sensation bubbled up within his abdomen, but he ignored it.

Though the eel presented by the two-legged creature hadn’t been covered in scales, the pelican recognized it as a fish he had hunted on numerous occasions. He had never been able to actually catch one, so he’d snatched it up before taking flight.

The odd sensation in his abdomen swelled, and the Pelican considered landing to regurgitate the meal.

He didn’t have the chance.

White light engulfed him, and a loud pop tore into existence, cutting through the wind’s ever-present howling.