Splash~ Wind came from the canyon, tousling the man’s short hair this way and that. The Ice Silkworm fishing line gleamed. Blue Lake’s layers surged.
Clear lake water, carrying white foam, lapped against the gravel shore. A black earthworm, pierced by a curved hook, writhed its body. A small silver-scaled fish approached, drawn by hunger.
Suddenly, the wind tugged the silver line, moving the curved hook. Stimulated by the icy water, the dying, powerless earthworm struggled desperately. The small fish retreated in alarm.
Amid the surging waves, an out-of-place ripple suddenly spread. A shadow descended from the sky, sharp talons stretching out. Screech! It hooked the small fish.
A wave, as if by coincidence, was blown into a large swell, slamming hard against the eagle’s wings. Just as the gray eagle flapped its wings—its previous force spent, new force not yet generated—the wave struck it down with perfect timing. Its wings soaked, it floundered in panic, sending splashes scattering.
The thrashing commotion attracted a larger hunter. A shadow swam over, coveting the taste of fowl. Its great tail slapped the water; it leaped out, opened its mouth, and bit down on the gray eagle’s neck.