Connor and the Wolves - 42. Gone Fishing

“Where do you think you’re going with that?”
Connor stopped by the door, juggling his backpack, gym bag, and a hard case. He set the case down, biting back a sigh.
“I thought I told you. I want to catch a fish for Soren,” he said, turning back to his father.
“And you’re going to carry that pole the entire day, and presumably Lenyal as well?”
Fuck, he should have known this was going to happen. Why hadn’t he hidden the pole last night?
“No sir,” he sighed.
“Call your mother and tell her you’ll be late,” River said. “And don’t try to cook him a fish. If you really want to apologise, we’ll get you a crawfish. It’s closer to lobster, and less bloody.”
“You’re… going to help me catch something?” Connor frowned. “What about the light?”
“That’s what sunglasses are for,” River waved off. “I’ll see you at four.”
Connor took his pole back to the bedroom. After a moment’s thought, he left his gym bag too — if he was coming back this afternoon, there was no sense in carrying it around.
Slipping out of the apartment, Connor sighed as Dan stepped out of the elevator. His visit wasn’t exactly unexpected — word had probably travelled about Erik’s issues. Connor would have questioned the fact that it took nearly three days for the elf to show up, but then, the visits were supposed to be random, even if they were expected.
“Morning Connor,” Dan smiled. “Running a bit late?”
“Yeah, I was hoping to catch a fish for my mate, but Dad said I needed to wait until this afternoon.” Connor shrugged.
“Ah. Congratulations.” Was it just him or did the elf’s smile waver? “Have a good day.”
“You too.”
Rushing down the stairs, Connor puzzled through Dan’s reaction. More and more people used mate as a catch-all term; it didn’t necessarily mean he was with a werewolf. Even if River still didn’t like the word. He hoped Dan didn’t mention Connor’s mate to River. Sure, River thought Soren was just a mage who could turn into a wolf, but Connor really didn’t need him second guessing Soren.
Once he was seated on the bus, he began thumbing through his notifications. Messages from the guild, mentioning the raid coming tonight — he’d have to skip, but Khurtschono understood. A message from Soren, with a picture of the werewolf holding a silver coin with a tired grin. Connor smiled at that one. The first time you got paid was always something to celebrate. Granted, Connor didn’t have a job himself; his money came exclusively from his allowance. Still, he was happy for Soren.
‘Ever rolled around in a pile of coins?’
Connor paused, staring at the words. It was a joke. There was no way it could be taken as anything other than a joke, right?
Sighing, he deleted the message.
‘Good job ;)’
There. Bland, but safe. He leaned back and clipped his earbuds on. Closing his eyes, Connor let music carry his thoughts away until he reached his stop.

The river gurgled slowly far below Connor’s feet. A ship horn blared, ringing in his ears, and he watched a barge crawl upstream, toward the docks east of the city.
It was weird being on this side of the port. But he wasn’t exactly in control of their destination. River said they needed to be outside the city — the crawfish weren’t going to be crowding around the concrete piers waiting to be caught. They’d taken the bus as far as it would go, and now Connor was carrying his bags across a pedestrian bridge as River led him toward a patch of weeds beside the river.
“There.” River pointed to the base of the bridge, where a pile of rocks sat among the weeds. “There isn’t much traffic to disturb them there, so they’ll look for food around that spot.”
“What about the boats?” Connor pointed out, following his father.
River frowned. “I don’t know. Not sure if they actually can hear. Even if they can, ship horns aren’t uncommon enough to startle them, and there’s plenty of traffic on this side of the port, so the wakes aren’t unusual either.”
They approached the shoreline, and River dipped a large plastic bucket into the water. Once it had filled to his satisfaction, he set the tub aside.
“Look for a branch,” he said, casting his gaze around the darkening shadows.
Conner followed his lead, and grabbed a long stick.
“What are we supposed to do with this?”
“Watch.”
River took the branch. Squatting beside the water, he scanned the shallow depths. He pointed a moment later, and Connor’s eyes picked out a muddy form within the water. River stuck the stick into the water, and slowly pulled it toward the crawfish. Connor watched the stick pause in front of the crustacean, and River gently prodded the crawfish.
“You want him to grab the stick,” he said. “Gotta piss him off a bit to do that.”
As he spoke, the crawfish’s claw smacked the stick. River kept pushing, whipping the stick around to prevent the crawfish from darting toward shelter. Finally, the animal snapped. Its claw grabbed the branch, and River yanked back.
Connor winced as the crawfish released and fell onto the shore. River stepped toward it, and motioned toward the creature’s back.
“Now grab him like this,” he said, reaching down and pinching over the crawfish’s back. “This way he can’t get you.” Peering at the wriggling creature, River tossed it into the bucket. “We should try for about twenty of them. These ones are pretty good sized, but mages tend to burn through energy from what I’ve heard.”
“So….” Connor stared at the bucket. “We’re going to agitate a bunch of crawfish, stick them in a confined space, then eat them.”
“Yep. What did you expect?”
“I don’t know,” Connor admitted. “This just seems mean.”
“Crawfish or fish, anything you catch is going to die,” River pointed out. “If you don’t want to do this, just go to the store and get a fish already prepared. But your mom and I used to do this all the time when we were dating. There’s really nothing quite like a crawfish boil to end a walk along the river.”
He passed the branch to Connor and stepped back. Sighing quietly, Connor crouched next to the water. Dragging the stick through the river, he flipped over a rock.
A crawfish glared at him. Probably. He wasn’t sure — their eyes just stared at him, little beady black orbs. But he was pretty sure the creature was already pissed. After all, his home had just been destroyed.
Stop anthropomorphising them. He’d never be able to kill them if he kept this up.
Prodding the crawfish, Connor nudged it toward the riverbank. He felt the branch vibrate as a claw clamped down on it, and Connor hurled the crawfish onto the shore. Lunging toward the creature, he grasped its neck like River had shown him, and lifted it into the air.
“Hold on,” River said. He set a finger under the wriggling crawfish, right between its eyes. “See this spot right here? Shove a sharp knife into it. It’ll kill them quick. Painless too, much more so than boiling them alive. But you don’t want to do it until you’re about to cook them.”
He stepped aside, and Connor tossed the crawfish into the bucket.
“Two down, eighteen to go.”

Walking for nearly three hours with a bucket full of water was not fun. Connor’s arms were screaming long before they reached Riverview Meadows. Numb by the time they actually got to the gated community. But River was adamant that they could not take the bus with live crawfish in tow.
He was doing it for Soren. Connor repeated the words like a mantra in his head. It was all for Soren. He was doing this for Soren.
He dropped the bucket on the front step, rubbing his arms. Agony burned through them, and Connor regretted the decision to try to get feeling back in them. Where was the blissful numb of before?
“Are you coming in?” Connor asked, struggling to fit his key in the lock.
“I’d rather not,” River muttered. “Just wanted to make sure you got here safely. And find a good place for the bucket. They should be fine until after your race tomorrow. I’d have Soren come here though; taking them to… wherever he lives… will be difficult.”
Connor pushed the door open and hoisted the bucket again.
“I’ll see you on Lenyal, then,” he said.
“Don’t forget we’re picking up your suit for the dance,” River reminded him.
“Yeah, I already warned the coach I’ll miss practice,” Connor said. “He wasn’t happy.”
“Can you blame him after you ditched earlier this week?” River pointed out.
“No, but it would still be nice if he understood certain difficulties some people have with scheduling,” Connor grumbled. “Anyway, I’ll see you on Lenyal.”
“Have a good weekend.”
River turned quickly and hurried away, casting a wary glance at Emma’s car in the drive. Connor rolled his eyes and pushed into the house. He set the bucket aside, and locked the door behind him.
“What are you bringing into this house?”
Connor jumped at his mother’s voice. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he turned toward Emma, trying to look as innocent as possible.
“Just some crawfish,” he said. “I wanted to cook them tomorrow for a friend.”
“Your neko friend?” Emma asked pointedly.
“No, someone I met at a track meet,” Connor replied, doing his best to ignore the barbs in the question. He had friends, even if he never really invited them over. “He runs… ran… track for Elias Academy, but he quit the team.”
“A werewolf?” Emma demanded.
Connor sighed.
“Yes. Dad’s met him,” he said.
“Your dad met a werewolf you’re friends with.” Emma stared at her son. “River. Met a werewolf. You are friends with. And the werewolf survived?”
“He thinks he’s a mage.” Connor shrugged.
Emma rolled her eyes. She scowled at the bucket next to Connor and blew out a breath.
“Fine. But I’m meeting him,” she said. “Are you… going out with this werewolf?”
Connor rubbed the back of his neck. He nodded slowly.
“He… uh, he claimed me last Varyal.”
“Fuck.” Connor fought back a snort at his mother’s expletive. Go figure, she could cuss as much as she wanted. Yet if he even thought about it, he’d be in trouble. “You’re practically an adult now. I can’t keep you from being with him.” Emma scowled at him. “But I hope you remember werewolves are not allowed to live within this community.”
“Yes, I know,” Connor sighed. “I’m not planning on turning. Yet. And the wolf counsellor at school has been talking to me about stuff too, so it’s not like I’m not being warned away at every turn.”
“As you should be.”
“I asked him to turn me,” Connor blurted. His face burned, but the cat was out of the bag now. “He’s not some horny menace. I asked him to turn me, and he said he wouldn’t.”
“Of course he did!” Emma snapped. “If he acted too eager, he’d chase you off.”
“That makes no sense. I asked. If he just wanted to turn me, there’s his opening.” Connor scowled. “I know you have issues with werewolves because of Dad and that guy who turned you, but none of the werewolves I’ve met have been anything but the most considerate people. And yeah, I know if I turn I can’t live here. I’m not being stupid about this.”
“Yes, you are. Asking a werewolf to turn you is stupid, Connor. You’ll lose your place on the track team, you’ll have to register every year, you won’t be able to live in most neighbourhoods… it is a stupid, STUPID idea!”
Yet she was a werewolf. Connor bit back a retort — who was the stupid one who had turned just to spite River? At least Connor had a good reason.
Fuck this. He wasn’t going to stand here and listen to Emma belittle him.
“I’ll be in my room,” he muttered. “I have homework.”
Lifting the tub, Connor carried the crawfish to the kitchen. He tucked them out of the way, then made his way to his room.