#systole

Emiya's head snaps up from where it rests on his hand. Caster is pointing her blade to a spot at around the middle of the lake.

The middle of the lake, surrounded by very thin ice. But if Caster comes back, she might lose her quarry, and they'll start all over again.

Emiya sighs and Traces up a fishing pole. Then he sends out Systole. "I need you to carry this very carefully to Caster," he tells it. "Crawl on your belly on the ice to distribute your weight. If you can't make it, I'll call you back and go myself."

Systole salutes and trundles off, the fishing pole gripped tight in its paws.

Once on the ice, Systole follows Emiya's instructions. It bites down on the pole, and squirms its way across the ice as fast as it can.

It gets about halfway before it gives up. Instead, Systole jumps in the air that it cracks the ice beneath it, punches the fishing rod in Caster's general direction. It promptly turns into a streak of red light and returns to the warmth of its Pokeball.

The fishing rod hits Caster in the hilt, but she catches it.

"RUDE!"

"Start fishing!"

Caster huffs, but casts her line efficiently.

Hopefully, this means we'll have the Salty Herba Mystica by lunch.

I want poutine!

But 'worst-case' is not remotely the same as 'weirdest case'.

The last thing Emiya expected when sitting down for lunch would be an attempted judo throw from the largest rat he had ever seen, and he'd been in the NYC subway system.

Mid-dodge, he reclassified the 'rat' as a Pawmot. It was much bigger and much angrier than the pre-evolutions he'd been trying to catch all day.

As he landed, he realized those two things were connected, as a whole pile of terrified Pawmi gathered around the edges of the campground, watching intently.