The second part of our exploration of How Meltyre Is Great At Fishing. (If you missed part one, it’s right here.) This story time includes an animal death. That seems obvious to say, but better safe than sorry. The animal is a fish.
Meltyre was ten years old. Still.
It was funny, he thought, stealing from tree to tree, how long it took to get to your next birthday. Theoretically, Mother had said, Dad would be home just after his next birthday. She had in fact been saying that like a mantra, and Meltyre was so sick of hearing about his birthday.
He was tired of waiting for it too, he thought, taking one last look around. Okay, the coast was clear.
Casually, he moseyed up to the magistrate’s private pond and sat down, pulling a line out of his pocket and looking for a bug to bait the hook with.