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“Is that raw?”
The raw fish dropped from Clover’s mouth like a rock. He had been caught.
Halsin wiped his hand over his face after a heavy sigh. “You didn’t scale it, did you?”
Clover looked on as the fish laid limply on the ground in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
Halsin crawled over and scooped it up in his hand. The fish died at some point between the river and now and had a noticeable chunk already missing from its side. He flopped it back and forth, observing. “It’s not safe. You have to clean it, at least.”
Confused, Clover responded, “But it was in the water.”
Roping his arm around Clover’s shoulders, Halsin pulled him onto his lap and held the fish steady in front of them. As gentle as ever, he placed a hand over Clover’s and ran their fingers along its scales. Clover felt a grime build underneath his fingertips as they glided over the fractaled ridges shining under daylight’s sun.
Halsin pulled back a few scales with his fingernail. They were rough and poked at his skin. “Isn’t it difficult to eat?”
“Well… it’s better with honey.”
A low rumble vibrated against his back. Halsin’s laugh.
As swiftly as Clover was brought into his lap, he was ushered off. Halsin took the fish to a flat stone nearby and went skillfully to work. In his hands, a sharpened knife separated fin from body and scale from flesh. He dunked the fish in a pot of salt water every so often and by the time he finished, Clover was peering over his shoulder, watching carefully.
“Here,” Halsin said, cupping his fingers and running them along the body once more. “Do you feel that?”
“It’s smooth,” Clover acknowledged.
“Like an orange, the outside is meant for protection,” Halsin agreed, releasing him. “It’s necessary for survival but it doesn’t taste very good.”
“Is it safer this way?”
Halsin smiled, skewered the fish, and centered it over the fire. “You won’t need numbing oil if you prepare the fish like this before eating it.”
Clover’s face flushed as he suddenly remembered Halsin’s keen sense of smell. The oil he used is nothing if not pungent. He ran a tongue along a cut inside his cheek and didn’t feel a thing.
Moving beside Halsin, Clover sat as they watched the fish roast over a crackling fire. The sun descended behind a horizon of lush trees, emblazoning the sky in a vibrant orange-red. A cool breeze rustled the grass around them, whispering dark secrets to the leaves.
“Living like you requires a lot of work,” said Clover finally.
Halsin chuckled. “I suppose it does. But no more than yours.”
“At times like this, you remind me that I don’t understand anything.” Clover crossed his arms and rested his head on Halsin’s shoulder. The heat of the fire warmed his face and the numbness in his mouth eventually faded. “I want to learn quickly.”
Halsin pulled him in tighter, protecting him from the calculating forest wind and the enduring deep sky, limitless in their terror. “There’s no need to rush.”
Dissatisfied with that response, Clover mumbled, “But it won’t taste good, otherwise.”
Halsin hummed happily. “Some people still like it anyway.”