Flight of Frost and Aurora

Chapter 41

The following day, Lucifer instructed Alastor to go ice fishing. It seemed that his wife and stepdaughter deemed pig, duck, and stag meat too fatty and were eager to switch to a leaner diet. However, Alastor didn't mind at all—in fact, he relished the idea of ice fishing. Although the cold would be a challenge this time, he had always been quite tolerant of chilly weather, even as a human.

First thing in the morning, he donned his coat and gloves, grabbed the fishing pole, basket, and hooks that Lucifer had provided, and took some scraps of meat to use as bait. After packing his supplies, he made his way to the frozen lake. There, he discovered a particularly thin patch of ice and used a stone to break a hole through it.

As Alastor peered into the clear water below, he felt a rush of excitement. The lake was eerily quiet, save for the occasional crack of shifting ice. He carefully lowered his line into the hole, the bait dangling enticingly in the frigid water.

The cold air nipped at his cheeks, but Alastor welcomed the chill; it reminded him of the invigorating winters of his past. He settled onto a small stool he had brought along, keeping his eyes fixed on the bobber as he waited for a bite.

Minutes turned into an hour, and just as he began to wonder if he would catch anything at all, he felt a tug on the line. His heart raced as he instinctively tightened his grip and began to reel it in. The struggle was on, and Alastor felt a thrill at the prospect of landing a fish.

After a few moments of intense effort, he finally pulled the fish through the hole—a trout. Alastor couldn't help but smile at his success. He quickly removed the hook and placed the fish in his basket.

"Wow! Usually, it takes Papa until nightfall to catch a fish in this weather," he remarked, just as he heard a soft giggle behind him.

Turning around, he saw Charlotte standing there in her winter cloak, a basket in her hands.

"What are you doing out here, darling?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face.

"I thought it was unfair for you to sit out here in the cold all alone," she replied. "I figured you must be hungry and freezing by now, so I decided to bring you a nice, hot picnic lunch."

Alastor's heart warmed at the sight of Charlotte, her cheeks rosy from the cold and her eyes sparkling with love.

"You're a lifesaver, my dear," he said, gesturing for her to join him. "I could definitely use some warmth and sustenance. But aren't picnics for Summer?"

"They don't have to be," Charlotte said with a playful smile. "Whoever said there can't be a winter picnic?"

She set her basket down beside him and began to unpack its delightful contents. Inside, she had brought steaming hot coffee, savory venison stew, buttery rolls, warm goat's milk, gingerbread from Molly, and a very special blanket she had woven herself from goat fur.

"When the ducks and goats shed, they allow me to collect their feathers and furs to use for pillows and blankets. Don't worry—I always wash them first!"

"What about fleas?" Alastor asked.

"Fleas? Never! I groom them regularly, washing and brushing their coats, fluffing their feathered tails to perfection. My stepmother insists I should just feed them and clean up after them, but animals deserve more than just the basics. They need comfort and love, just like people do. You know, if you take care of animals, they'll take care of you in return."

"Vagatha says something similar."

"And she's absolutely right. I can't count the number of times I've felt cold at night, only to find them providing me with the warmest blanket and the softest feather bed. They do this for me because I'm the only one who takes the time to groom them, talk to them, and pet them."