Friday, March 7, 2014

Ice fishin

For those of you who aint never been ice fishing, let me just tell you, this is no easy task.

First, you have to break through the ice. Check out Moonshine trying to bust through the ice.

Pablo and I was telling him he was gonna fall in, but he didn't listen. He just kept on smashing on the ice.

Like I said, when that fella gets an idea in his head, he just keeps on keepin on. Pablo was so worried about Moonshine, he measured out a safety line.

Course Pablo's line was too short, and the only reason we know that is cause I had the sense to stand on the ice and toss Moonshine the line in the event he fell through the ice. Did I mention we was both on the ice? Didn't have the heart to tell Pablo that if Moonshine fell through, I'd fall through as well, and he'd be left all alone. Anywho, this ice fishin thing is turning out to be quite the adventure. Hope ya'll like this next little bit of Prince & Princess, A true love story. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 3 (cont'd)

“I think 'tis best you be with your own,” she lovingly whispers to the child.
Birds sing morning praises and welcome the dawn. The gentle flowing river makes a relaxing trickling sound. Setchra sighs in relief as she guides the makeshift raft down the river. 
The two peacefully journey until late afternoon when Setchra hears grass shuffle. She turns towards the riverbank, but cannot see the old white-bearded man fishing for his evening supper. The shirtless, wrinkled man with curly white chest hair sits on a tree stump. Upon spotting the odd floating pair, he leaps from his stump and bellows, “You there! Ya be well?”
Setchra tenses at the sound of his voice, prepared to attack the stranger. She begins clicking her tongue and waits for a report. Nothing comes. The old man's distance is not within range of her clicking sonar. Her predator instincts press her to determine the number of spectators on the shore. Setchra debates using her more powerful sonar blast in order to determine the size and location of the threat.
“May I be of assistance, mum?” he yells.
Upon detecting the genuine concern in his voice she decides not to use the blast, but remains guarded.
“Morning,” she pleasantly replies, blindly looking past him. Without the child she would have dived down and slipped beneath the murky water, but as Princess’ sole protector, she feels the need to secure the little girl’s safety.
The siren's serene voice causes him to eagerly lean forward. “Looks like ya caught a bit more than I,” he chuckles as he puts a wood pipe in his mouth.
Setchra and Princess slowly drift past him. 
“I’d offer you aid, but I’ve no rope that can reach ya at that distance.”
Setchra arches her back, pushes her chest out, thrusts her hips, and flicks her powerful tail to maintain her position. With little effort, the mermaid manages to hold the massive tree in the middle of the wide, strong current. Swelling swirls spin around her as water parts around her slender shoulders.
“Not that you’d be needin’ a towline to drag ya in,” the surprised old man says in astonishment, noting her abilities. 
Unable to gauge the elderly man’s character or intent, Setchra quickly decides not to leave the child with the stranger on the shore. “How far to Tremble Nemble?”
The old man lifts a stick from a smoldering fire and lights his pipe. Smoke clouds billow out of his mouth. “Oh, closer than ya might think.” He points downriver with a wrinkled hand. “Tis just around that bend.”
 “Thank you,” Setchra says, waving goodbye.
When she raises her hand, the man notices the blinding reflection of her golden top. His excitement results in several rapid puffs. “By Poseidon’s beard! Did I just see a mermaid?” he mutters between puffs.
He watches the sleeping child and lovely woman drift down past the bend, looks at his pipe. “What manner of herb burns in me pipe?” He turns his pipe over, knocking the red embers out, and drags his fingers through his beard. “Nah, ‘tis me ‘magination,” he assures himself.
Past the bend, Setchra guides the log to a wooden dock with two small fishing vessels tied to it. The crude boats look as though they haven’t been used in some time. Carefully, Setchra maneuvers the log until it’s resting partially ashore, next to the deep watered pier. Once it’s settled along the bank, she gently pats Princess on the arm. “Wake up, child. We’ve arrived.”
Princess smacks her lips sleepily, pushes herself up, and moans, “Ma?”
The mermaid helps her sit up.
“Hear me…,” Setchra delicately insists, but Princess’ heavy lids partially flutter open and close.
“I had terrible dreams, Ma,” she mumbles, leaning forward on Setchra’s chest, the child’s body goes limp and she falls back asleep.
Setchra sighs and tenderly rubs Princess’ back. Bark imprints on Princess’ face turn pink as the blood flows back into her cheeks. “There, there, child. Sleep well.”
The mermaid gently lifts the warm child off the log; her powerful tail easily holds her and the young girl upright in the deep pool. With Princess nestled in her arms, Setchra wonders if the child feels the blazing bond grow as strongly as she does. The warmth created from the bond is irresistible to the mermaid. She could hold Princess all day and all night without even the slightest urge to release her. And thus is the life of a mermaid, building the blazing warmth between mother and child.
Instinctively, the little girl wraps her arms around Setchra’s neck and breathes deeply. Princess’ snoozing puffs of warm air tickle Setchra’s ear almost the same way the mermaid’s voice tickles the child’s ears. The lady of the sea leans back and maneuvers herself towards the shore. At the sandy embankment, she rests against the soft muddy side. She cradles the little girl in her arms and lets her rest from her troubled day.
Time slips by and a family of swans enters the small cove. Setchra hears the mother enter the pool first, then her chirping chicks. The massive white-feathered mother spreads her large, beautiful white wings and flaps them a few times, adjusting herself in the water. Her tail throttles in the muddy river before she finally settles. Behind her, three chirping chicks clumsily leap into the water. Last of all, the enormous father leaps into the river. He, too, spreads his wings and flaps them before he shakes his beak, body, and tail.
In Princess’ dream, the sound of the father swan’s flapping wings trigger traumatic memories. First, she sees her mother’s eyes, then hears her father’s axe. She looks to her father’s handsome face, then to her mother’s hand, gripping her little wrist. Chills shiver down her spine as blood pours down her mother’s mouth. She looks at Princess with a lifeless gaze.
Princess’ closed eyelids rapidly shift back and forth. She moans once and her leg jerks twice.
 Inside her dream, her mother eerily whispers, “Courage,” before she is again torn from Princess’ outstretched hand. Still asleep Princess feels her mother’s fingers slip through hers.
She gasps sharply then screams herself awake. “Want Ma, Ma!” she wails.
Setchra presses the child’s head against her chest and rocks her. The mermaid strokes her hair comfortingly. “Ssshhh, I know child.” With some effort, Setchra eventually calms Princess down.

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