Heretical Fishing

Chapter 83: Humble

Chapter 83: Humble

The moment I opened the blanket, the change was visible.

Its leg was bent to the side still, but as I freed it from the surrounding blankets, she stretched the limb back, testing it.

The bunny put weight on it, pushing down against my thigh, and after a moment of hesitation, launched herself from the blanket with a powerful leap.

"No you don't!" I said, snatching her from the air.

I put her back into the banket and bundled her up.

"What are you...?" Maria asked, her voice full of awe and confusion.

I sprang to my feet.

"We've gotta get her to the forest!"

I took off, running just slow enough for Maria to match my pace.

Snips and Claws dashed off ahead, a trail of sand in their wake, and Pistachio plodded along behind us, happy to follow.

We reached the trees and continued on, going right to the edge of my property.

I turned to Maria, whose skin was flushed and forehead pricked with sweat after what had to be a sprint to her.

"Do you want to let her go?"

"You don't want to...?"

I held the bundle out.

"I insist. You should be the one to free her."

She accepted the package, hugging it tight and whispering into it.

"Goodbye, little bunny. Live a happy and long life."

She knelt and unwrapped the top layer, exposing the bunny to the cool forest air.

She raised her head, ears twitching as she looked around. Then, she leaped from her arms, landing softly on the loamy earth.

She paused there a moment, but upon seeing there was no danger—other than the two humans that had kidnapped it, and three ridiculously large, rather violent-looking creatures by our side—the bunny dashed off into the forest, her cute little feet a blur of movement as she disappeared around a trunk and out of sight.

"Bye, Cinnamon!" Maria called after her.

"Cinnamon?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded.

"Yep—Cinnamon. That's her name."

"A fitting name." I cupped my hands to my mouth. "Bye, Cinnamon! Make good choices!"

Maria elbowed me in the side, recognising her father's words from when we left for our trip.

"Not funny."

"Hey—it's solid advice. I want her to make good choices."

Maria scowled, but the hint of a smile was on her lips.

"You're a big meany, Fischer."

I grinned at her.

"Only to those I like."

***

Barry carried his prized possession from town, his stride firm and core-muscles engaged.

"Are you sure you're okay with that, Barry?" Fergus asked behind him.

"Yeah, I'm sure, mate. It's pretty fracking heavy, though."

"Alright..."

Barry glanced back to see Fergus and Duncan exchange a look with each other. He returned his attention to the earthen ground, smiling to himself.

Let them think what they want, he thought. It's more likely to help my mission than hinder it.

He led them ever on, through the cane fields and further from the village's buildings with each step.

When they arrived at his house, he walked around the back, heading for the shed.

They followed silently, focused on the contraptions they bore.

Barry reached his shed and bent at the knees, setting the metal pot down on the sandy soil.

"Just here will do, guys. Thanks for bringing it over."

"No problem, Barry," Fergus said, eyeing him with a discerning gaze. "Happy to be of service."

"So, uh, Barry..." Duncan said, running his hands together and looking away. "When you finish making a batch, do you think we can have—"

Clap.

"Ow..."

Fergus raised his hand, threatening to slap his apprentice on the back of the head again.

"We were paid for the work, Duncan. No asking for extras."

Duncan rubbed the back of his head—overacting, by Barry's estimate; the slap hadn't been hard.

"That's abuse, you know," the apprentice said. "I could have you taken to the capital and whipped like the show pony you are."

"Ohhh!" Fergus said, laughing. "Feeling mouthy today, are ya, lad?"

Duncan grinned.

"I learn from the best."

"Yeah? Well, you can learn to clean out the forge when we get back—it hasn't had a good scraping in a while."

"No doubt. You do a half-assed job every time, unlike—kidding! I'm kidding!"

Duncan held his hands up, warding off Fergus' raised hand.

Fergus grinned at Barry.

"Sorry about the lad. He gets his manners from me, unfortunately."

“It's no problem.“ Barry turned to Duncan. “I'd be happy to give you some when it’s finished. It's the least I can do after all this work."

"See?" Duncan said. "It doesn't hurt to ask!"

"Doesn't make it right, lad," Fergus responded, scowling, then turned to Barry.

"We'll be off, then. Forges to clean, apprentices to abuse—I mean discipline. You understand."

Duncan grinned widely at his master, then at Barry.

"Bye, Barry! Can't wait to try some of your—"

Slap.

He rubbed the back of his head, the smile never disappearing.

Barry chuckled at the two.

"Until next time. Thanks again."

The smiths turned and left, and Barry spun to focus on his new toy.

"Now... let's get started, shall we?"

The first thing he moved inside was the pot, a large, bulbous contraption made of pure metal. He placed it in the back corner of his shed, atop the brick stove he'd built. The stove was just far enough from the wooden walls that any radiating heat wouldn't threaten to catch the entire shed afire.

The pot alone must have been almost a hundred kilograms, and he knew that, if not for his awakening, he wouldn’t have been able to lift such a preposterously heavy object, which was likely the reason Fergus and Duncan had been exchanging looks on their way to his shed.

Thankful for his empowered form, he lifted the pot still neck, the object the burly Fergus had been carting. It was a metal chimney that would allow the vapor rising from the pot to travel up and away from the fermented mash. It slid into place with ease—Fergus' work was exactingly precise—and Barry pushed it down, cementing the seal.

Next came the swan neck, which he attached to the still. It was a long chimney for vapor that ran perpendicular to the ground. As with the previous seal, it slid into place, the measurements flawless.

Last came the jacket and the worm condenser that wound within it. The jacket was a metal box to hold water, and the worm condenser looked like a hollow spring.

He gazed over his construction, admiring the work.

When the fermented mash was put inside the pot, and the brick stove below was lit, vapor would travel through the still, eventually coming out as pure rum.

He looked to the side, seeing the barrels of mash he'd prepared earlier. They'd been sitting for long enough, and should be ready.

"Only one way to find out, I suppose," he said aloud.

He bent and picked one up, intent on finding out.

***

Maria stepped up to her porch, the midday sun lending an orange tint to the world.

A light breeze blew from behind her, wicking away any hint of sweat before it had a chance to form.

"Well," Fischer said from behind her, "it looks like I got you home safe—just as promised."

She turned, smiling at him from atop the porch.

They were at the same level, and as their eyes met, her heartbeat quickened.

"Thank you, Fischer. I can't tell you how much I needed that little holiday."

He gave her a wincing smile.

"I'm glad you still feel that way. I thought after finding out... well, everything, you'd be more stressed than when we left."

Maria shook her head softly.

"Not at all. I feel... I don't know. Excited? Thank you for telling me and trusting me with everything."

Fischer laughed.

"I didn't really leave you much of a choice."

"No, you did." She stepped closer. "You had to explain your blasting of a tree or two—that little show was hard to ignore—but you didn't have to tell me about Snips, Claws, and Pistachio. You didn't have to tell me about the pond, and you certainly didn't have to show me the bunny's healing. Still, you did all those things, and I appreciate your trust."

As Maria spoke, Fischer slowly nodded along.

"Yeah, you know what? You're right. I'm kind of a good dude, huh?"

"And humble."

He nodded, a glint in his eye.

"And humble—that's my most prevalent virtue."

***

As my mouth ran its course, as it so often did, most of my attention was fixated on Maria.

Her blonde hair, moving silently in the breeze. Her blue eyes, like the sunlit ocean on a clear day. The freckles—chaotic, yet perfectly placed, as if the magnum opus of a career artist.

A silence stretched, and my heart quickened, thumping in my chest.

Her lip twitched, almost imperceptibly, and she leaned closer. It was a minute shift, yet it made my heart hammer even more.

She darted a look at my lips, then back up at my eyes.

I took a half-step forward, drawn into her.

She slipped toward me, paused, then leaned in.

***

Maria couldn't hear. She couldn't think.

Her breathing felt too fast, and her heart pounded in her ears as she stared at the strange, enthralling man across from her.

He'd revealed so much, things that should have made her want to run and hide, and yet, she didn't; she wanted to be by him—she wanted to help him.

He took a step forward, and she shuffled closer, her legs only half obeying the command.

She leaned in, eyes locked on his lips.

Fischer froze, his eyes darting to the side as his head jarred backward.

Someone cleared their throat behind her, the sound gruff and loud.

***

"Ahem," Roger said, getting both of our attention.

It was almost a yell, and the admonition was clear.

My stomach convulsed, the butterflies turning into a volatile storm.

"Dad!" Maria whirled, letting out an awkward laugh. "I'm, erm... back?"

He nodded, his eyes locking me down.

"I'm glad. Come inside and I'll help you unpack."

"There's no rush," Sharon said, poking her head out the open door. "Right, dear?"

Roger didn't take his eyes off me, and I stared back dumbly, like a fox caught in the chicken coop.

"Right," he agreed, his jaw clenching. "We'll be... inside."

Sharon ushered him back in and closed the door, leaving us alone on the porch. She appeared in the front window, looked between Maria and me, winked, and drew the curtains closed.

Maria shook her head, letting out a soft sigh.

"Sorry."

"It's fine," I said, my heartbeat pounding for an entirely different reason than earlier.

Before I could move, she wrapped her slender arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug.

My hands moved around her waist, and I pulled her tight against me.

Despite how small and frail she felt, and how powerful the cultivation shenanigans had made me in this world, our bodies fit together—two puzzle pieces made for one another.

My chest hammered, and I could feel her soft heartbeat racing as we held each other there, frozen in time.

"Thank you again, Fischer."

I squeezed lightly, pulling her even closer.

"Thank you for coming. I had such a nice time."

She pulled away, so I let go.

With her hands on my neck, her arm extended, she leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek, the touch soft as a feather.

Even with my enhanced cognition, I couldn't have dodged if I tried; my body was suspended, overwhelmed by her.

She danced backward, putting her hands behind her back.

"I'll see you soon?"

I nodded, blinking.

"Yeah—see you soon."

She smiled, her eyes crinkling as she took one last look at me before turning for the door.

***

"I don't like it, Sharon!" Roger hissed, keeping his voice low.

His wife let out a small sigh, nodding.

"I know you don't like it, my love, but that doesn't mean it's right for us to interfere."

He felt his mouth form a line and eyebrows scrunch together as he thought of what to say, but Sharon spoke first.

"Do you not remember how we met, Roger? I seem to recall a strapping young man sneaking me from my window of an evening..."

"This... this is different, Sharon. She's—"

"She's our only daughter. I'm well aware, my love, but that's all the more reason to let her make her own choices."

Sharon smiled at him, and her face held such adoration for Roger that his complaints died in his throat.

"She's not an object for us to defend," Sharon continued. "We made her, yes, but that doesn't mean we own her. We're not some noble family that treats their daughters as bargaining chips for power—is that what you'd rather be?"

At the rebuke, Roger's pained expression melted away, and he shook his head.

"You know I detest them more than anything else. It's just... she's our only daughter, Sharon."

She put a hand on his chest and stepped in, leaning her head against his sturdy frame.

"I know, my love. You just want what's best for her, but she still has to make her own choices. She isn't livestock for us to herd."

Roger sighed, deep and long.

"You're right, but I still don't like it."

Sharon laughed, her small body shaking with mirth as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You don't have to like it." She pulled back, patting his chest. "You just have to grin and bear it."

The door made a soft click and opened, letting in the midday light.

Maria stepped through, beaming brighter than the sun outside.

Sharon turned to Roger.

"Would you mind going and getting some supplies from town, husband?"

Roger gave her a deadpan look, but nodded.

"Been meaning to go for a walk, anyway."

He stomped to their room, presumably to get his things.

Sharon ushered her daughter over; Maria all but ran. She grabbed Maria's hand and dragged her to her room, closing the door behind them.

Now that they were alone, Maria's smile widened, and Sharon's did the same.

She leaned toward her daughter, whispering as she bounced on her heels.

"Tell me everything."