Beneath broken stone and warped metal, a solitary raven panics as it senses imminent danger. It escapes certain death mere seconds before the structure finally crashes to the ground. On soaring above the devastation, the bird spies a wet-eyed woman...
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Vernon sat near the edge of the lake, a small campfire blazing, and two fish skewered, cooking on a spit.
I sat close by, still confined to the contraption in which he had placed me. But, I was thinking about how the fish cooking smelled so good, and I couldn't wait for the feast.
The fishing supplier looked down at me with one eyebrow cocked. "Now, I hope you're going to be reasonable when I take you out of there," he said.
I had no intention of being anything else, my stomach growled for the fish on that spit.
I nonetheless eyed him warily as he untied the catch. My previous captor, Alarii, had slender, delicate hands and needed both to keep me secure. Not so with Vernon. His hands were huge, like shovels; he could easily hold me in one hand and still have room for another.
He reached inside the trap and his large fingers curled around me. Fish scales and dried blood were caked under his nails and embedded within the deep grooves around his callouses. Still, he was surprisingly gentle with me.
"Now then birdy, let's see what old Effcee managed to do to you."
With his forefinger, he lightly brushed my mantle up over my nape. "Ah, she got you, lad. Never mind, I can fix you." He pulled a rag from his britches pocket and shook it out.
"And what on Azeroth are you going to do with that?" A voice sang from behind.
Vernon turned around, still keeping a firm but gentle grip on me. A slender woman stood in simple attire; a long brown skirt, white blouse and black bodice.
"Hello, Amy," Vernon's eyes crinkled as he smiled broadly. "Well, I was going to clean this bird's wound. That blasted fiend of a cat nailed this one too, would you believe it?"
The woman's eyes rolled, then she saw the rag in Vernon's hand. "I hope you weren't going to use that filthy thing to do it!" she said, pointing to the cloth.
I glanced up at Vernon's face. I do believe I saw him blush a little. "I don't have anything else at hand, Amy," he replied a little pathetic.
Amy tutted and told him to stay put while she went and got something better. I watched her climb the small incline and move towards a covered cart. She fumbled about under the canvas, looking for whatever it was she sought.
Meanwhile, Vernon pulled the fish from the spit. He broke a piece off and after blowing on it to cool it down, handed me a generous morsel. I eagerly accepted.
"Hey! Steady there, boy. You nearly had my fingers." He smiled and proceeded to pull apart some more of the delicious, flaky fish for me.
I was gulping the second offering when Amy returned. In one hand she held a small vial and a vastly cleaner rag than Vernon had considered using. In her other, she carried a bowl of water. "Here," she said, "Hold this." She handed the bowl to Vernon, then hitching her skirt a little to the side, she knelt next to us.
