. • Hng Dinosaurs • .

He doesn’t notice the sound of rhythmic footsteps over the crashing waves. The farmer approaches.

“Ahoy there, Lass,” Willy says gruffly, nodding at her as she walks up.

The farmer smiled at him. She wasn’t much of a talker, that girl. Usually, she just nods or shakes her head, unless she’s really got something to say. Her tanned skin and calloused hands echoed her occupation. Through sheer willpower she managed to jumpstart the local economy through her farming, mining, foraging, and of course her fishing. The farmer was a good fisherman. Well. Fisherwoman, he supposed. She recently got hitched to Robin’s son, the sickly lad. They seemed happy though.

 “It’s late,” Willy says, rebaiting his hook for the umpteenth time, “don’t you farmer have to get up early?”

With another smile, the farmer just shrugged. Young people. Never stop long enough to hear themselves think, Willy supposed. Though perhaps the farmer girl wasn’t quite the same.

Another cold breeze swept over the waters. Willy bit back a shiver.

The farmer did not react to the cold. In fact, she was in a thin knit shirt, not equipped with sleeves, and decorated with a pattern reminiscent of a ribcage. That and a pair of baggy cargo pants. It was hardly winter attire. She didn’t have on so much as a hat or a pair of gloves, yet here she was, fishing beside him.

She threw her line in the water, without even baiting it. She just cast her line. Granted, it was excellent cast, going an impressive number of yards out. But still, it was a plain hook. She wouldn’t catch a damn thing.

“Come on, Lass. No bait?” Willy said with a raised an eyebrow.

The farmer stretched her neck, keeping a careful watch on her line. “Forgot it,” she said simply.

Willy shook his head; he’d taught her better than that. Maybe the cold was getting to her head. She was never going to catch any—

The farmer began to get a sharp pull on her line, carefully, masterfully even, she began reeling in a fish with precision. In less than a minute she held aloft an albacore. A massive one.

Willy stared at her.

“… good catch,” Willy said after a long pause.

She just nodded once, before throwing another baitless hook into the water. Willy just watched her, not exactly paying much attention to his own line anymore. Sure, the farmer was an odd little duck, and he was fond of her, but sometimes …

Sometimes he wasn’t so sure what she was. He can only chalk up so many things to the fact she used to be a city girl. City girls don’t spend six hours digging up clay on the beach for no apparent reason. They don’t fell half a forest in an afternoon, or remain forever untouched by the elements or fatigue. Harvey once told him at Gus’s that occasionally she’ll collapse in the mines, covered in slime and monster blood. She’ll return in the morning more often than not. It’s the only time either of them had ever seen her anything other than wide awake and energized,

Willy snaps out of his thoughts when he sees her rummaging in her bag out of the corner of his eyes. The farmer pulls out an uncovered bowl of soup and a raw leek. She quickly devours both things. Willy doesn’t ask any questions. If there are answers to be given, it isn’t his business.

They fish in silence, with Willy scoring a catch and the farmer catching six more fish of her own.

He’s done asking questions. She’s a great fishing companion. She respects the water. Willy’s leaving it there.