A fish story.

Agatha stood at the bank of a small pond, holding her fishing pole and watching the wooden bobber out in the water.

The morning had been overcast, so she'd gone out to tend to the crops she'd planted after waking up in their shed. Turning herself into sunlight still made her apprehensive, but she'd walked around and made sure to water and prune them in between. It was nice to see the corn and potatoes growing, although when she reached a few stalks without leaves she realized she'd need to fence the rabbits out. Only after that had been taken care of did she take her pole and line with her into the woods.

The lake next to Greencrest was fished by the town harbor, and she was only flipping for bluegill, just to catch them. She knew of enough other, secluded places along the rivers to be on her lonesome. No one had taught her how to fish, but she'd picked up the basics as a child after realizing it was that or going hungry, and she liked doing it. The quiet was relaxing.

She popped a buttercup off the bush next to her and ate it without seeing it, furrowing her brow and pulling her line back in. Her nightcrawler was gone; little fish had probably nibbled it right off the hook. She shrugged and reached back into the spike of ground lifted up by her sword and dug around briefly before finding another wriggler and baiting her hook again, wiping her hand off on the grass before casting her line. It was just a string tied to a tree branch, but she had it where the shallows sloped off to the deeper part of the pond.

Tommorow she'd have to travel leagues to aid a village in driving off a sheep-napping griffon and then spend two days on patrol before making her way back to the shack, so this was making the most of her time. Popping another buttercup into her mouth like candy, she saw her bobber twitch and jigged the line just a little bit. All was still for a few moments again before it shook in the water.

She gave it a heartbeat and then yanked the pole to the right, her line suddenly going taught and jerking. It wasn't another bluegill, it felt bigger. She almost ripped with her heart in it, but that would've torn the hook right out of the fishes mouth. Instead she took a step backward and grabbed the line with a gloved hand, rolling it in her grip to reel it in. If she'd just been fishing the shallows she'd have used a shorter reach, but she could cast all the way out there without a boat anyway.

The fish fought her, trying to arc and then escape, but it was caught and she easily pulled it out without too much splashing. The bass was longer than her arm and much meatier, and she smiled and laughed after her eyes had shrunk back down. It was the biggest fish she'd caught, the bass flopping, it's dorsal fin pointed and red gills flaring. She quickly slipped off her glove before setting it down in grass and working out the hook. It was too bad- no one would believe this.

Picking it up, she tossed it back into the lake; it floated for a second, staring at her increduously before flashing away and out of sight. Agatha looked up at the cloudy sky and smiled unguarded, winding up her line and gathering her gear. There was a wide section of river down the path, and it was about time for the trout to be biting.