Fishing Friends

As far as I can remember, it's always been just the three of us. Andrew, Harriot, and I — and the fish, of course. Our little roost near the ice hole has been our home, and we never strayed far from it. The sun was setting, and Harriot was storing her newest trophy — a typical evening. As we were packing up, Andrew decided to stay behind to "fish" alone... but I saw that glint in his eye, that look towards the back of the cave. An explorative urge had struck him. Maybe he hoped for clearer waters, a catch of his own? Who knows... Ever since then, he's changed. Last I saw him, he had glossy eyes and a raspy cough. It made the fish elude him more than usual. Despite this, Harriot reeled in a big one — A slippery Crimsonback, almost too heavy for her frail arms to lift. Andrew ripped the fish out of her hands and, without hesitation, slid it off the hook and into his gullet. When Harriot protested, he swiftly silenced her with a push, nearly knocking her off our deck and into the water. We left early that day, without Andrew. Harriot sought to return and "make things right" between them, but I fear our friend is beyond help... something crept inside him as he wandered the bowels of this cave. I have to keep it out. For good.

I'm starving They want me to rot Never sharing Always pretending to care My stomach is rumbling, and I cannot rest Can't catch my breath... something sits inside my lungs, choking me I need fresh fish Fresh blood But they won't ever share — She deserved it And if you don't open up Nils I will come for you too And I will get you like I got Harriot