Fish Stocks Limited HTML version
so hunting the Mist-dwelling animals as they floated past was out of the question.
This said he had a certain kind of ingenuity. It had caught his attention that certain
animals did not bob along in the mist as others did, but crawled along the floor.
Taking a fallen branch that had not yet rotted from the forest floor, Ambrosius used it
as a digging stick and made a hole about ten hand-spans deep and ten wide. He broke
a huge leaf off a nearby plant and placed it over the hole. Then, as it was nightfall, he
retreated a small distance and slept.
He awoke disorientated and it took him some time to determine where the pit was,
but when he found it he was pleased. The leaf had fallen, along with a large round
evil- looking scuttler with a thick shell on stop. It looked like a Mist Crab (which
sometimes had taken the Fisher's bait and been hauled up into the treetops), but it had
dome-shaped armour on top and no pincers. Ambrosius poked it with a stick and it
“Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,” began Ambrosius, relating an old poem.
He paused, trying to remember the rest. Then, “Oh who cares,” and, with a swift
motion he brought the stick down on the creature.
“Die!” Once more, the stick.
“Die I say!”
“Oh, who am I kidding,” Ambrosius said in defeat. He picked up the creature out
of the hole by cupping its shell and set it down on the forest floor.
Ambrosius sighed. How did something with such a tangible lack of any drive for
self-preservation exist? He shook his head and walked on. It was difficult not to
notice the noise of twigs crackling behind him. Ambrosius turned. The creature was
following him. He ran through the undergrowth for a short distance and stopped,
turning round. Leaves shook and twigs crackled and the peculiar crab- like thing
emerged with what could only be described as a hurt look about it. Typical, thought
Ambrosius. Just when I thought I could have my glorious solitude.
In a storybook, Ambrosius would have reluctantly developed a heart-warming
affection for this little creature, they would have gone on exciting adventures together
and then, just in his moment of direst peril, the little crab-type-thing would have saved
our hero's life. Unfortunately for the crab-type-thing, real life differed somewhat.
Ambrosius approached the thing with a friendly look on its face, at which it tweedled
affectionately, then with a deft movement he flipped it on its back and left it
helplessly flailing its many legs in the air. Ambrosius walked on and forgot about his
would-be companion. It is a sad fact that shortly afterwards a giant pig- like creature
came along and pitilessly ate up the crab-type-thing in several cruel crunches. Such is
The tweedle-tweets of the crab-type thing faded into the distance, and Ambrosius
was alone once more. He trudged on until the S mugshine faded and darkness ruled,