Page 220 of Fallen Nocturne

My stomach growls again and I press my hand harder against it.

“Shh, I know,” I tell it. “I’m working on it.”

I keep walking, searching for anything edible. Mushrooms. Roots. Berries.

I try not to think about the other option. The one I think about every day but never say out loud.

I could tell Rainer the truth.

I could tell him that the villagers of Fewildra are trying to sell us. They’re going to give us away to the slavers of Tiamat to become servants or worse.

I could tell him.

He would fix it. But my uncle would also tell my mom. She is from the old bloodlines of Kashran, the coast dwellers with fire in their veins and rage in their hearts. The Kashrans don’t show mercy to people who hurt their family. If they knew what the villagers tried to do, they’d torch the entire village. They wouldn’t care that some of the villagers are innocent.

They’d just burn it all.

I can’t let that happen. I won’t have all those deaths on my hands. It’s not right. So I stay quiet and hidden.

And I stay hungry.

I need to keep surviving. One day at a time. My feet carry me toward the river. That’s where I set my fish trap yesterday. Hopefully, there’s something in it.

Please let there be something in it.

My stomach grumbles again and I walk faster.

The river isn’t far. It’s just through the thick brush and down a small slope where the trees thin out. Here, the light actually reaches the ground.

I love the river. It’s one of the few places in Astefar that feels almost normal. The rushing water sounds like music when it flows over the rocks. Sometimes it reminds me of the ocean back home.

I approach carefully. Because you never know what might be watching. But today the riverbank is empty. It’s only me, the water and the fish trap I set yesterday.

I scramble down to the water’s edge, my bare feet slipping on the wet stones. I don’t slow down because I can see it. The round basket trap sitting in the shallow water where I left it.

It’s woven from river reeds with a narrow opening at the top that fish can swim into but can’t swim out of. Blaire taught me how to make it. She showed me how to weave the reeds tight enough to hold fish but loose enough to let water flow through.

I’m not very good at it yet. My trap is lumpy, uneven, and ugly.

But sometimes it works.

Please let it work today. Please, please, please.

I grab the trap and lift it out of the water. Flopping around inside… is a fish!

It’s only the length of my hand, small. But it’s food.

“Yes!” I scream. “Yes, yes, yes!”

I jump up and down, splashing in the shallow water, not caring that I’m getting my dress wet. I don’t care about anything except the fish.

The beautiful, perfect, amazing fish.

I hug the trap to my chest, fish and all. My stomach is already anticipating. I can already imagine the taste. If I can find dry wood, I can make a fire and I can cook it properly. If I can’t wait, maybe I’ll just eat it raw. I’ve done that before. River fish is not great to eat raw like the ocean fish, but it’s—

Something moves in my peripheral vision.

Fast. Green. Large.