Bright and early. Eyes alight and bushy tailed. His fishing rod glistening in his hand.
“Don’t forget your amulet, boy."
“I won’t forget, grandma,” Mano said putting on the necklace with the beaded eye that had belonged to grandpa.
It was supposed to ward off evil, and one day grandpa forgot to take it with him on a fishing trip. He never came back after a storm. This was enough proof for his grief-stricken grandmother that the amulet offered protection.
His fishing gear, safety supplies, and snacks had been meticulously and carefully packed by the kind old lady whose eyes were lively and full of zest. Giving her a hug and a kiss, he set out the door along the dirt path that crossed the edge of the beach before turning away from the sea towards the mountains.
Down on the beach, the fishermen prepared their boats and fishing gear, ready to head out to sea. All except a pensive old man, who simply busied himself with the nets but no longer went out to deep waters. Santi hadn’t fished in a long time, ever since the sharks had eaten his prized fish. It was the biggest one that had ever been caught in the village, and it would have hauled a hefty sum in the market, but by the time the old man made it back to shore, the sharks had made a meal of it, and only the bare bones had remained.
Now he spent his days mending the nets and let the younger ones take the boats out there. He was done with the fishes, he was done with the sharks, and he was done with the sea.
“Ahoy, Mano!” he heard Rodrick call out his name. “When are you coming with us to fish in the sea?”
“Next season!” the boy replied with a grin.
The others laughed.
“Come with us to the sea, and we’ll teach you how to swim and how to catch the biggest fishes you’ve ever seen.”
“Next season!” the boy repeated, his face growing red.
More laughter ensued.
The truth was Mano had absolutely no interest in going out to sea. For one, he couldn’t swim, and fighting sharks for a fish was the furthest thing from his mind. He preferred the peacefulness of the mountain streams. Sure the fishes were much smaller than he could catch in the sea, and he had to work twice as hard just to fish enough to feed himself and grandma, but up here on these great heights was where he belonged. There were no yawning water abysses, fearsome sharks, or deadly storms. It was just the mountain, the air, and the streams.
Mano had a few favourite spots, where wide pools gave him enough room to cast his line without entangling it in the surrounding vegetation. He could've used the float instead of the fly technique but not where the currents were too rapid like the ones higher up there.
He hopped across large rocks on a path he knew well, skulked through grasses growing radiant along the shore, and climbed over gnarled roots from trees that were older than the village itself. The air grew cooler and thinner, filled with the fragrance of new blooms. His breathing grew deeper. He meandered away from the river when the crossing grew too difficult, and then he found his way back, happy to hear the murmuring stream among the rocks and cliffs as it flowed all the way down to the sea.
At last, he reached a clear area with a wide pool and set to work on his fishing gear. His fingers were nimble as he tied the intricate knots on the flies that his grandfather had taught him how to make with discarded cans and feathers.
Over the edge of the mountain, he could see the boats heading out to the cerulean sea.
He gripped his fishing rod tightly and walked around the shore where multiple streams spilled with a gurgling sound into the pool.
He looked up at the wild terrain that loomed above the mountain. He had never attempted to fish higher up there. The vegetation grew too dense around streams and made it difficult to properly cast a line without getting entangled in the bushes.
He stood on a large boulder near the middle of the pool, and from there, he cast his line in quick successive swings, the fly glistened under the sun as it struck the water sharply. He spun around in place like a clock, so he could strike different areas of the pool.
It wasn’t too long before the fishes started biting, one by one, the boy took them out and wrapped them in leaves, which he placed in his backpack.
He was thrilled by the turn of events. Sometimes, he did not catch anything the whole day and had to go somewhere else.
As he was kneeling at the edge of the pool securing his backpack, he heard a sound behind him, and as he turned to stand up, he felt a large weight crash on top of him that sent him splashing into the river.
With head dripping wet and clouded vision, he turned to see a large blurry figure barreling towards him, growling like an infernal beast.
Mano’s instincts kicked in, and he ducked just as a large paw swung above his head. The momentum sent both him, and the growling bear tumbling into the water. With his arms around the stinky beast, Mano realized it was a juvenile because of its smaller size. He was relieved that it was not a full grown bear, but mama bear was likely not too far behind.
Boy and beast wrestled in the water, growling and huffing. In spite of its young age, the weight of the animal was too much for the scrawny boy, who fell back on the water. As he struggled to get back on his feet, his hand closed around a branch that he immediately swung just as the creature was charging towards him.
He heard a satisfying thud as the branch struck the bear between the eyes and broke in half with a sharp crack. The creature roared in surprise- likely more frightened than injured- ran out of the water with a splash and dashed into the forest.
Panting, Mano looked down at his arm. It had been scratched, and it was bleeding, but it didn't look as bad as it could've been. He laughed at his luck and could hardly believe it. He poured water over the wound and bandaged it with the supplies that grandma had prepared for him. She won't be very happy when she hears what happened, he thought. I'll just tell her that I slipped on the rocks and will be careful next time. He didn't like lying to grandma, but he didn't want to worry her either.
He realized that the branch he had used to smack the bear was actually his fishing rod. It was now broken in half. He did his best to untangle it from the rocks in the river and managed to salvage the fly, which was still attached to the line on the broken piece of rod.
Mano waved it around and realized just how light it felt in his hand. The fly buzzed in the air above him as it glided to the edge of the stream where it landed gently on the surface. Given the rod's small size, and the line's tighter reach, the fly did not get caught in the vegetation as it flew around. As soon as it struck near the edge of the river, he saw a flash of silver and felt a sharp tug on the line.
He pulled back and saw the fish jump in the air with the red fly in its mouth, twisting and turning, sending shimmering droplets of water across the air.
Because he could not use his injured arm properly, he simply raised the broken piece of rod and dragged the fish onto the shore.
Why had he never thought of this before? He thought marveling at the broken piece in his hand. A smaller rod would be so much more useful when fishing in tighter spaces like this one. He could fish the whole length of the river to the very top of the mountain.
After dispatching the fish with a blow, he threw it on the ground and hoped the bear would come back and find it.
The bear was hungry and wanted to eat, he mused. It was just doing what it thought was natural. Mano would try to stay away from them, but just in case, he would go to the market and buy firecrackers to keep them at bay.
As best he could, he tied his broken rod to the soggy backpack, now nearly empty of fish, then began the descent back down the mountain.
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