If I’m writing, it must be time for more food. This is another moment of peace. Things this week are going kinetic, starting tomorrow.

Since I know less about fishing that Alicia does (will), I had to pause to look up the different kinds of fishing line. Odd where stories take you, sometimes.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

She talked for nearly forty-five minutes, backtracking now and again when she saw he didn’t understand something.  He only interrupted twice with questions.  Alicia fell silent and tilted her head to the right, waiting for more.

“So,” Allen began very slowly, “you said all that to teach me that time is not something fixed.  Not static.  Fussy and Ed – good Lord, he’s my son-in-law! – were gone three months, but Robert, and everyone still on Earth, thought it just under a week.  I do not understand.  But, you just said it happened.”

He shook his head.

“We shall rest now, Uncle.  Much has happened to you in the last few hours and I do not want you shocky.” She pulled her suit over and lay down with her head resting on it.  “I’ll wake you in a bit, okay?”

“That’s…okay, Niece.” He moved to a flat spot with what was maybe dried moss on it before lying down and closing his eyes.

She heard him get up a few hours later.  In case he needed to use the toilet part of the stream, she feigned sleep.  Hearing his pause then him walking away, Alicia opened her eyes and stretched.  Not needing her suit, she pulled the utility belt off of it and strapped it around her waist, mostly for the basic first aid kit.  Her resheathed knife she slid in behind her.

Making a similar personal stop, she pressed on toward the lake.  Allen was there with his line out into the water.

“Fortunately when I ended up here,” he began, hearing her behind him, “I was holding my pole and had several spools of line in my pants pockets.  But, since they’re nylon, at lot of them are starting to break.”

“Without sun damage, why would polymers break down in this environment?” asked the girl who had never fished once in her life.

“The oxygen is enough to do it,” Allen explained, flicking the line a little.  “It’s a cheap commodity on Earth.  There are some made of different materials, or braided, which last longer.  But they were in the fishing bag.  Hah!”

He pulled on the line something resembling some kind of flat fish was on the end of the line.

“The bone structure is different than earth fish,” he said, pulling the hook out at setting it where it wouldn’t flop back into the lake.  “But still edible.  The taste is both salty and creamy.”

For some reason, he froze.  She could tell he was mortally embarrassed but had no idea why.  Fixing a piece of lichen to the hook, he turned away and cast.  Still silent.

“You only rested for just over two hours,” Alicia said, stepping up to keep the conversation going, “so I guess with no day-night cycle, you just rest when tired?”

“Something like that.  I really never know how long I sleep.  Stopped having dreams about Ry and Liv some time ago.” Another flick of the line.  “They hurt.”

Another tug and a second fish.

“Breakfast,” he said, still unhappy about something.

“Do you clean them?” she asked, remembering seeing some videos.

“With what?” Allen was more sarcastic now.  “One of my stone knives would just tear them to pieces.”

“Then here,” she replied, reaching around to her back and handing him her knife.  “Can you use this?”

After a pause, he took the blade out and looked as best he could in the faint light of the lake.  “Yeah, I guess I could.”

“Reminds me of fatty salmon sashimi,” she said halfway through hers.  “It’s really good.  Thanks, Uncle.”

Meal over, they tossed the remainder into the lake then rinsed their hands.  Given he had no belt, Allen returned the knife.