The tug of the line woke me up first, I sat up in the old pontoon, Boris was reading something while his rod lay there, line in the water, unmoving. I had passed out while waiting for a catch, and it had finally happened. I yanked on the line, feeling the tug of something. I had snagged a fish, but it was still far out, and I started the process of reeling it in, pulling it tight when it got tired, and giving it some slack when it struggled. Slowly I dragged it to the boat before I called Boris over to scoop the fish into his net, and we pulled out a Largemouth bass, about 20-22 inches long and 20lbs or so. It was impressive, and a fighter, and would taste great for dinner. We threw it in our fish bin and got back to relaxing on the water, not saying much, enjoying the silence of each other's company. I laid back down in the chair, line cast once again, the gentle rocking of the boat slowly lulling me back to sleep.
I felt a tug on my finger and snapped awake. I was in the wooden boat I had hastily made, Lupe was sleeping in the bottom of the boat and seemed better. I pulled on the leather line and felt the fish pull back. I started jerking the line up, knowing the leather wouldn't snap as easily as the fishing line, and I was able to see the beauty biting my line. It was a crocodile-like monstrosity, and it seemed to be slowly following the fishing line up, snapping up the slack leather.
I grabbed the line and pulled it tight, jerking the line between its teeth, and earning its ire. It stopped trying to swallow the line like spaghetti and started paddling towards the boat. I readied myself for a fight, and right as it got within punching distance, it stopped and with the comedic timing reserved for the killer being right behind you, I turned around.
I saw several things at once, a village or something with huts set up on the river bank, several people walking around, and the wreckage of nets, with what seemed to be my first log boat stuck in there, like a catch that had been a bit to big. Someone spotted me, standing like a captain on the edge of my boat, fist cocked back, ready to punch the crocodile. They stopped moving, started staring, and I noticed they had very vulpine features, such as a tail, and an elongated nose and mouth, a snout if you will, and they didn't seem happy.
I slowly sat down in the boat and piloted it around the wreckage that was once the net. The crocodile followed, at a distance, as more and more people stopped and looked at me. I soon got to the center of the river and the boat sped up considerably, and I was almost past the village when cries started to rise up. I looked to my side and saw an old friend. My canoe was there, sitting on its back, next to a bunch of rickety-looking boats, compared to them, it looked like a royal treasure.
I saw people running for the boats and I grabbed a handful of pebbles, and with as much force as I could muster, and superheating them with the Manaphage, threw them all at once at the boats, successfully starting a small fire and scaring the natives, the explosions of the rocks hitting sounding like fireworks. I had even put a couple of holes in the canoe, hopefully enough to make it unusable. The water soon dragged me around a bend, the crocodile still tethered to my boat by the fishing line. I looked at it and started to grab another rock, and it threw up all the fishing line and dived underwater, scared it seemed. I got back down and turned back, starting to guide the boat again. That explained the missing boat and everything thankfully, but I was not ready to fight a village of people.
I relaxed back a bit, planning on riding the middle just a little longer before I pulled into the slow lane when I heard a roaring noise. I closed my eyes, and slowly opened them, sighing to myself, “frying pan to the fire, right?” and started to use the rudder to try and move the boat to the shoreline, but it was to no avail, I was caught in the middle, and I felt it speed up, the roaring growing louder and louder. I was now desperately paddling to the shore, and it was too little too late, by the time I was halfway to the shore, it came into view around a bend, a waterfall, and a loud one at that. I grabbed Lupe and did the only sensible thing. I pushed off the boat with as much force as possible, and tried launching myself at the shoreline, and splashed into the water, only a quarter of my journey left. I felt the pull of the water and was able to kick against it desperately enough that I could still move to the shore, and avoided going over the falls.
I got closer and closer when I heard the boat go over the edge, scraping rocks and everything else before it went out of sight. I kept swimming, listening for a crash but it never came. I eventually got to the shoreline, inches away from going over the edge. I pulled myself up, and placed Lupe next to me, panting for breath, exhausted. Lupe was shaking off the water and laid down, equally tired, the emoticon above his head showed great confusion. I slowly got to my feet, and looked over the edge, to find the drop between layers. It was about fifty feet, and entered into a dark cavern, before disappearing out of sight.
I sat back and realized how close I was, once again, to dying. I started laughing, man, these close brushes with death were getting harder to avoid, how was my body going to repair itself from drowning, and would Lupe have even survived. The adrenaline coursing through me was slowing down, and I quickly dried myself off, the cold finally getting to me. I crawled over to a tree and started climbing it, bring Lupe up with me, and made a little platform to lay on, and soon passed out.