Beck craned forward slowly, not wanting to disturb anything. A fish was nosing at one of the traps. The problem with this method of fishing was you didn’t get to choose what kind of fish you caught. In this case they had struck lucky – it looked like a trout. About fifteen centimetres long, brown and speckled, one big fin on its back and several smaller ones along its stomach.
The trout was cautious, but then it obviously remembered it was hungry and swam in. The funnel shape of the top half of the bottle guided it towards the worm that was trapped between the two halves. It wriggled through the gap and pounced on the worm, gulping it down in a couple of swallows. Now it was between the two halves of the bottle and its tiny fishy brain was confused. It could see light through the transparent sides, but it was in a confined space and it couldn’t quite work out how to get out again.
And then it was too late because Beck whisked the trap out of the water with his hand over the open end. He held it up triumphantly.
‘We have fish!’ He handed it to Tikaani, who took it gingerly. The trout was wriggling enough to splash water out of the trap. ‘Take it to the bank, hold it upright and don’t let it go.’
Tikaani had the sense to retreat a safe distance from the river. Even if he did drop the trap, the trout wouldn’t end up back in the water.
Now Beck just had to wait for a fish to swim into the second trap. It took a bit longer but eventually another fish fell for it. He wasn’t sure what kind this one was, but that didn’t matter. It was food.
He sauntered with the second trap back to where Tikaani was waiting. His friend was almost quivering with eagerness.
‘What is it? What kind of fish?’
Beck shrugged. ‘No idea.’
Tikaani looked blankly at him. ‘Supposing it’s poisonous?’ He was actually hopping about, ready to get his fish out and stuff it in his mouth. But his natural caution came first.
‘It won’t be – freshwater fish are edible.’
‘I feel like I could eat this whole!’ Tikaani said. He managed to control himself a little longer. ‘So how long now? You’re going to make a fire, I suppose, and—’
‘A fire?’ Beck asked. ‘What’s that?’
He thrust his hand into the trap and grabbed his fish by the gills. While it was still wriggling in protest, he pulled it out and dropped the trap so he could hold it firmly with the other hand too. Then he bit firmly into it, halfway along the back, severing the spine. Juices spurted into his mouth. Fresh, moist, slippery meat slithered into his mouth.
He could feel the scales rubbing off on his face. He worked his way along the fish’s back, tearing the tender meat off its fragile bones. Finally he lifted his face triumphantly to Tikaani.
His friend was staring at him with an expression of . . . horror? Fascination? Beck wasn’t sure because Tikaani came to a decision with an almost visible effort. He grabbed hold of his own fish and did exactly what Beck had done.
‘Just eat along the back,’ Beck told him. ‘And the sides, but be careful you don’t bite into the guts. You really don’t want to.’
Tikaani grunted indistinctly, his mouth full of raw fish. And that was all either of them said for the next couple of minutes as they finished off their meal.
‘Mm!’ Tikaani exclaimed. He dangled the chewed corpse in his hand. ‘Sushi extreme. I had no idea I could be so hungry.’
‘The problem’ – Beck picked the last few scraps off his fish’s backbone; it was a fiddly task, requiring concentration – ‘with fire . . . is’ – finally there was no more meat – ‘it dries the fish out, soaks up all the juices. This way you get the full, natural goodness. Gives you strength, gives you moisture . . .’
‘Keeps you alive,’ Tikaani agreed. He looked hopefully at the traps. ‘Any more?’
Beck laughed. ‘Yeah, easy. ’Cos if there’s one thing fish love more than a nice tasty worm, it’s the guts of their friends.’
‘Gee. I’d hate to be a fish’s enemy . . .’