he was a cripple who knew how to fish.
He ambled over to the river, tying the cord to the end of his staff—a bendbow knot, his father had called it.
Jesse felt a stab of pain at the memory. Sometimes, when they were running for their lives or involved in a mission, he almost forgot about his parents. But not quite. He didn’t know where they were or if they were even alive, just that they disappeared a year ago. He hadn’t heard from them since.
The Forbidden Book gave them information about the lost, but only lost Youth Guard members. Jesse wished the book were magic and could tell him where to find any person he named. It had been a long time since he and his father had gone fishing together.
With a sigh, Jesse plopped down on the bank, sticking his feet in the river and swirling them around. The cold water felt good on his sore feet.
“You’ll scare off the fish,” Silas warned him. When he fished, he always sat in complete silence, hardly moving at all. Sometimes, Jesse thought he was dead, until he saw him blink.
“Apparently, I haven’t been scaring them off,” Jesse said, smirking. “Just scaring them right onto my hook.”
Silas shook his head, and Rae scoffed out loud.
“Anyway, I’m not fishing yet,” Jesse continued. “I’m just watching the currents.”
“Watching the currents,” Silas repeated skeptically.
Jesse nodded. “Old trick from District One,” he said. “You’ve got to know how to time the currents. That’s how I catch all my fish.” He shrugged and tapped his staff with its intricately carved designs, a gift from his friend Kayne. “And my staff brings me good luck.”
“I thought you Christians didn’t believe in luck,” Silas said. Even though it was a simple comment, Jesse could hear the bitterness in his voice.
He decided it wasn’t the time to start yet another argument about God. Those always went the same way. He and Parvel against Silas and Rae, all repeating the same arguments and neither side changing their minds. “I was joking,” Jesse said. “Fishing is pure skill.”
Rae gave a little half-snort at that, and Parvel chuckled warmly. He was setting up a brush pile to start their small cooking fire.
“I think I’ll go upstream a bit,” Jesse said, leaning on his staff.
Silas didn’t complain. He never did. Jesse had counted on that. He probably enjoys the peace and quiet.
Jesse found a shallow part of the river, where the muddy bottom was higher and current slower. He took one glance back to make sure no one had followed him. Then he pulled his net from underneath his shirt.
His father had taught him how to catch fish in a homemade net. It was quicker and easier than waiting for fish to bite on a line, and the materials could be found on nearly every riverbank in Amarias. All Jesse needed was waterflax, a thin reed that grew in patches all along the riverbank.
The long days of walking had given him plenty of time. With his crippled leg, he was always the last one in the group. If the other members of his squad thought it was strange that he braided reeds as he walked, they never said anything.
It had taken him three days to make the net. It was a bit like a basket, only more flexible, with a looser weave. True, it wasn’t strong enough to hold much weight. But small fish can be cleaned, baked, and eaten just as well as large ones.
He knelt down on the very edge of the bank, making sure his shadow was behind him. Any movement could startle the fish. Then it was a waiting game. Jesse carefully studied the water, waiting to see a fish poke out of the weeds. Dinner should be here any….
All of a sudden, he was tumbling face-first into the water. He came up, sputtering and wiping the wet hair out of his eyes, grabbing at the bank to pull himself out.
There, shaking her head at him, was Rae. “Pure skill, hmm?” she said, hands on her hips.
Jesse gave her a weak smile. “Yes?”
For one wild, crazy second, he thought about pulling her in with him. Then he checked himself. Do I want to die?
Since the answer was no, he just floated there, doing his best to look repentant when what he really wanted to do was burst into laughter.
She just shook her head and marched back toward their camp. Jesse quickly stood and sloshed over to her. “It wasn’t cheating,” he said. “I made the net myself. I caught the fish myself.”
But she didn’t even slow down. “Then you won’t mind if the others hear about your stroke of brilliance.”
Actually, Jesse wouldn’t mind. He was rather proud of it and was planning to tell Silas eventually. “You made me lose my fish, by the way.”
“I don’t care,” Rae said. “Now, move away. You’re getting that dirty lake water on me.”
“It’s a river, Rae,” Jesse said, rolling his eyes, “not a lake.”
“It’s not well water,” Rae fired back, walking faster. “That’s all I care about.”
Unlike in District One and Two, where most children learned to swim shortly after they learned to walk, residents of District Three avoided water whenever possible. As to why, all they could get out of Rae was mention of some old superstition. She always ended those conversations as soon as possible.
They had reached the camp. “She’s delusional,” Jesse cried in protest, running ahead of Rae. “It’s the journey—it’s just too much for her. Don’t listen to anything she says.”
Parvel and Silas just stared at them. “Anyone feel like explaining?” Parvel asked.
Rae was only too happy to volunteer, going into great detail about Jesse’s net.
“So that’s how you caught so many,” Silas said, shaking his head. “Is that really fair, Jesse?”
“Yes,” Jesse said. “We were keeping track of how many fish we caught. No one said how we had to catch them.”
“True enough,” Parvel said, “however, for acts of deception and general braggery—”
“I don’t think that’s a word,” Jesse interrupted.
“As squad captain, I officially sentence you to the chore of gathering the rest of the firewood for tonight’s meal,” Parvel pronounced solemnly.
Jesse made a face. In the rocky terrain that was a hard task. The trees that grew in the shallow mountain soil were mostly varieties of pine. It was backbreaking work to collect dead branches scattered on the ground.
“Fine,” Jesse said, taking the hook and line off of his staff, “but you realize that leaves Silas in charge of catching our dinner. And we know he doesn’t have the best record….”
“I’ll do just fine,” Silas said coolly. He had never taken his line out of the creek. “And I’ll do it without your fancy net.”
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