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. And that's final."
I smiled to myself. I was going fishing!
I pulled the oars of the fishing boat until the shore began to
shrink out of sight. But our progress was slow because the Blood
Sea was still roiling from the storm.
I thought I might get sick from the boat's constant dips into the
trough of every wave. Six-Finger must have seen my suffering, but
a deal was a deal; he didn't take the oars from me. He offered only
one consolation. "Don't worry," he said. "The water will calm
down by dusk. It always does."
He was right. As the sun set into the Blood Sea, dazzling
crimson lights sparkled on the now-smooth surface of the water.
The sea was at peace. And, finally, so was my stomach. Not that
there was anything in it, mind you.
It suddenly occurred to me that Six-Finger hadn't cast his line.
"You can't catch anything-except your death of cold-without
putting your hook in the water," I said.
"Giving orders already, huh?" growled the old man. "I've
fished these waters before and I'll not find the Monster
hereabouts."
With my stomach calm, I was getting hungry. I'd eaten raw
fish before, so I asked, "Do you mind if I use your line and see
what I can catch? After all," I reminded him, "I get a percentage of
your take."
He shrugged his shoulders. "If you're going to fish," he said
gruffly, "give me the oars." Six-Finger heaved on the wooden oars,
turning his head away from me as he stared out into the gathering
twilight
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