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The string snaps off my fingers, and the fish thrashes.

“Ha!”

It pulls hard enough to jerk the stake sideways. I put the bow on the gravel and get my foot against the stake, catching the line in my right hand. The cord cuts into my palm when the fish turns.

Ow. Don’t you dare, fucker.

For a few breaths I can only hold it. Then it comes toward me, and I gather the slack, dragging it into water shallow enough that its tail slaps the stones.

It’s longer than the first fish I caught with Rauk. Much longer. I get it onto the gravel and kill it with the stone, then crouch there grinning with water dripping off my nose.

Look at the size of you.

He needs to see this.

I lift it to feel the weight, and my arm’s shaking when I put it down. We’ll need the big pot, and he can cut it up while I tell him exactly how difficult it was to catch.

I cut the twine and thread all four on, which takes a while with the big one, and I leave enough cord that their tails won’t drag.

I tie the arrows, line, and stake to the bow so there’s less to carry, then take the bow in my left hand and the fish in my right.

My arm’s going to ache by the time I get there.

Worth it.

I start up the path, holding the fish clear of my bare knees. I have to stop once to change my grip on the twine. I can hardly hear the river anymore, and it’s only the climb left.

“You’d better still be sitting down.” I step around a root.

The bushes burst apart on both sides of me.

An arm catches me around the thighs. My feet leave the ground, and I’m tipped headfirst over a shoulder so hard that I lose the bow. The fish thump down after it as the twine pulls free of my hand.

I scream and kick, grabbing for anything I can reach.

There’s bare skin under my palm.

Who the fuck is this?

I dig my nails into it and wrench sideways, but the arm locks harder over my legs. My bad shoulder jerks, and I scream again.

We’re running. The path jolts past upside down, with the fish getting farther away between the roots.

My fish.

“Let me go!”

I hit the back beneath me with my good fist. My face bumps against warm skin, and I see the scars.

I know those scars.

Wait—

“Keer?”

I shove myself up enough to see past him. Axan’s right behind us with no clothes on, breathing hard. He looks over his shoulder, turns back, and puts a hand against my back when I try to lift myself farther.

“Keep down, Kes.”