Solo Proper Preperation

[Cylos Marn]

5th of Fall, 513 A.V.

The waters churned, sending spirals of white foam careening down the river. A boulder in the center of the river, a bulwark that diverted the flow to either side and slowed its mad rush by a mere fraction. From his precarious position atop that selfsame boulder Cy smiled wryly, his eyes locked on the water below him...

A flash of movement, Cy's spear struck out, fast as lightning. And struck nothing," Damn..." He frowned at his own inexperience. He had taken far too many lessons from his father to blame his spearwork, it was far more likely that his timing was still off.

Again he waited, striking when a flash of movement caught his eye... And again he missed. More curses and a sense of mild frustration. But no, fishing was once his favorite past time with his father and was a good bit of practice besides. The hunter gave himself a moment and thought back to those bygone days when he and his father would stand by the river, wooden spears in hand, and catch their dinner. Slowly, oh so slowly, his fathers voice drifted back to him, materializing from the void of memory," Remember Cy, you must aim where they will be, not where they are..."

He opened his eyes again in a flash, his fathers voice fading away but the words remaining behind... How could he have forgotten so simple a rule? He shook his head at his own foolishness and readied his spear again. Its razor sharp point hovered above the water, slowly tracking the movements of each fish as he spotted it until he felt he had the speed down. With a quick and powerful movement he struck.

His thrust was true, the very next fish to pass was skewered on the point of his spear and soon Cy could feel the fish thrashing about in its final death throes... He smiled and thanked his father for his pearls of wisdom before lifting his spear in the air, making sure that the fish stayed firmly on its point and then jumped down into the knee high water to begin wading back to shore...

Once he reached his campsite he took a moment to admire his catch, a small whistle of appreciation escaping his lips. It had to be a good 2 lbs and would be plenty for him to last while he was out on his evening hunt...

[Cylos Marn]

Cy's camp, such as it was, was well situated. Placed squarely between the forest and river, and sitting in a decent sized clearing, he had convenient access to both the water, ant the forest beyond. For a moment he wondered at his good fortune, that he should so easily find a spot such as this, but the moment did not last long. He would need to work quickly if he did not want his mornings prize to spoil.

A quick look around the campsite revealed no good spots for him to do his dirty work, so he moved further away... and after a moments thought he decided he was the better for it. He wouldn't want his whole camp so smell of bluidy fish , especially with the predators in the area. Also, nearer to the river, the fish would be easier to clean anyways. But he couldn't just drop it on the beach, unless of coarse he was fine with the sand that would quickly cover his breakfast... he wast.

The forests edge yielded a number of large leaves, just big enough to cover the ground where he could work on the fish properly, without worrying about dirtying it further. He laid the fish down gently, and then crouched, tugging his knife from its sheath. The blade glinted in the morning light as he flipped it, turning the blunted edge over so that he might use it when scaling the fish. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked down on the fish... such tedious work, but it needed doing. Another quick sigh and he lowered himself to his knees to begin his task.

One hand rested lightly on the fishes head, while the other ran the dull edge of the blade against the scales, prying them off bit by bit. It was, just as he had expected, tedious... but he finished soon enough. Next he flipped the blade back over and plunged it into the fishes belly, making a slit. The entrails came out easily, and he took the fish over to the river for a quick wash. After a while he returned to his camp and hung the fish up on a rack, only until he could get a fire going though.