Read Call of the Herald for Free Online Page B

fishing wire was expensive; she
would have to make do with what she had. After checking the knot
that held her lightwood bobber in place, she cast her line near a
downed tree, which was partially submerged in the dark water,
forming a perfect hiding place for the fish.
    A towering elm gave her shade, and its
moss-covered trunk provided a comfortable seat. She leaned against
the tree and waited for the fish to bite. The stillness of the lake
stood out in stark contrast to the maelstrom of thoughts that
cluttered her mind. She attempted to review the events of the
previous day, but she could not focus; when she tried to
concentrate on one thought, another would demand her attention then
another and another. Frustrated, she tried to put it all from her
mind.
    Her pole jerked in her hands, and the
lightwood bobber jumped back to the surface. With a hurried yank,
she set the hook and pulled the fish in, relieved it had not gotten
away with her bait. The large-mouth bass put up a good fight, and
when it emerged from the water, she was pleased to see it was
longer than her forearm--not enough to feed three but a good
start.
    After baiting her hook again, she cast it
near where she'd caught the first fish, but she got no more bites
for the rest of the afternoon. The dark shadows of large fish moved
below the surface, taunting her, and as the sun began to sink, she
decided to try her luck with the bow. Normally, fishing arrows were
used only when the carp were spawning since they made easy targets
as they congregated in the shallows. Bass would be much harder to
hit, but she had been practicing her archery skills, and she hoped
the effort would pay off.
    After securing her long string to the fishing
arrow, she tied the other end off on an elm branch. Not wanting to
lose her arrow, she double-checked her knots. Confident they were
secure, she located a likely target and took aim. Ripples in the
lake surface distorted her depth perception, and her first few
shots missed their marks. Determined, she did her best to
compensate for the distortion, and her next shot was true, catching
another bass in the tail and pinning it to the bottom.
    "Nice shot," Chase shouted from behind her,
and she nearly leaped from her skin.
    "Don't you know it's not nice to sneak up on
people?" she said, truly glad to see him. He just grinned in
response. She gave a tug on her string, but her arrow was firmly
wedged, and she removed her boots, preparing to go in after it.
    "Let me get that for you," Chase offered.
    "I can get it; I'm not crippled," she
retorted angrily and instantly regretted it. She had no reason to
be angry with Chase, but she felt helpless--a feeling she
despised--and she needed to lash out at someone. Chase took it in
stride, though, and simply sat on the shore while she waded out to
the flailing fish. She freed the arrow quickly and grabbed the fish
by the tail; it was slightly smaller than the first, but it would
be enough.
    The bruises on her hip and shoulder ached as
she climbed from the water, her muscles stiff from the time spent
sitting beneath the tree. Chase grabbed the other fish and Catrin's
bow while she retrieved her pole and her other fishing arrow. She
was grateful for his help; without it, she would have had a
difficult time carrying it all home. Chase was quiet for the first
part of their walk, and Catrin allowed the silence to hang between
them.
    "I visited the infirmary this morning," he
said after a while, and when Catrin made no reply, he continued.
"Osbourne is doing much better and should recover quickly. He has a
broken nose, a couple of badly bruised ribs, and a score of bumps
and bruises, but he was awake this morning. He told everyone that
you saved his life." Catrin grunted but said nothing.
    "Carter has a broken leg, but otherwise he's
fine. Chad has a head wound and can't remember much of anything;
heck, he didn't even know who I was. The Masters said his memory
should return in a few days, but his mother is