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When the sun rose in the morning, it was pale and weak. The chill of the previous night wouldn't abate today. Rudan some two hours after dawn, curled into a ball of fur midway down his mattress. The thick sheet was made of cotton that grew around the base of the Hellfangs, on their northward face. Inside, springy moss was stuffed to provide insulation. It was fairly comfortable, but on a day as cold as this, when the fire had yet to be stoked up, it was hard to remain asleep.

Regardless, it took Rudan another ten minutes to admit defeat and crawl out of bed, gasping as the icy air seeped straight through his fur. Hurriedly he pulled on his underclothes and wriggled into his timbermaw-fur longcoat and boots. The otterlad was still chilled to the bone, but he always warmed up soon after dressing. Outside his room, he could hear his parents striding around, attending to the morning business. Suddenly, stomping footsteps approached the door, which was abruptly flung open with a bang.

In the doorway stood an incredibly muscle-bound, fully-grown otter. His furred body was garbed in leather-backed metal scales, from neck to toe. Across his chest hung a bandolier of fish skulls which served as sheathes for wicked, serrated knives. Each mottled blade was as long as Rudan's hand. The otter's spade-like left paw was loosely closed around the haft of a harpoon, as tall as Rudan's foot-and-a-half frame and tipped with a half-leaf copper head. It was a fearsome weapon for a fearsome man, and Rudan quailed as his father stomped over to him and slapped his back cheerily.

"Up before breakfast, for once? Come 'long now, lad, get movin'! Today is the day you learn how to fish!" Gart boomed, looking very pleased and eager. His broad face was wrinkled with good cheer, and as Rudan stared up at him, he wondered how long it would be before that face was creased in embarrassment and anger. The otterlad could hardly be more different from his father. Gart stood as tall as him and half again, and had limbs the size of bloodoak roots. He could throw a hunk of copper at least a hundred yards, and was one of ten men in the village to have hunted down Brokentooth, the fabled bear of the deep forest.

Rudan was physically strong, yes, and that much his father could take pride in. However, he had yet to make his first hunting kill, he had yet to build his own logboat, and he had yet to serve in the town forge without dropping his hammer on old Kor's foot. He was no stellar example of the Verdigris bloodline, that much was certain. Some blamed Rudan's mother, Ariana. She was short and slight, even for a woman, and frail besides. Rudan shared her sapphire eyes and her short muzzle. So it was with a familiar spark of shame that Rudan looked up at his father, and Gart looked down at his son. The large otter prayed that today would be the day, this would be when his dear child proved to all that he was worth as much his whiskers as any other otterlad. No, he hoped that his son would outshine even his expectations and display some hitherto unknown prowess. After all, if there was one thing an otter was good at, it was catching fish!

Gart clapped Rudan once more upon the shoulder and then exited the room, stooping slightly to avoid cracking his thick skull on the doorframe. As soon as his father had left, Rudan sagged. He'd seen it in his old man's eyes; the expectation and hope, and the tentative plea. More than anything, more than the words he caught every now and then when the other men visited his father, it was that which drove a jagged spike into his heart and twisted it. Suddenly short of breath, Rudan crossed to the window and looked out, gazing through the gaps of the other houses to the pastel-blue sea. It sparkled as the rays of the sun cast upon the waves, beckoning to Rudan inexorably.

"Ice, still my paws." He muttered, having looked down and spied them trembling. The otterlad peered at the soft pads for a few long moments, then straightened and closed the window. He could mope later, when he dropped the billhook into the water or something.

As he opened his bedroom door, he could hear the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Rudan knew his mother would already be roasting spinefish for them to break their fast upon, by the smell. Spinefish was his favourite, and somehow that made him feel worse. Their efforts to instill optimism in him were welcome, but at the same time he wished they wouldn't be so obvious about it. He would have been happy with lettuce-cake, or something equally tasteless.

The otterlad padded the short distance from his bedroom door to the kitchen door and poked his head around it quietly.

As he had expected, there was his mother - back to the door, humming softly to herself in her weak, trilling voice. The smell of spinefish assailed his nostrils again and he felt his stomach churn as equally with hunger as it did with dread. Rudan opened the door fully and stepped inside, ignoring the creak of the door as it swung too far into the room.

"Joyous morn to you, mother." Rudan said as the ageing woman stood straight and turned to greet him. Framed by the light of the large fire in the sky, and the smaller one in the hearth, she looked thinner than ever. Her grip was still strong, however, as she gathered the young man up in her arms and squeezed him tightly. Already was he taller than she, forcing her to rest her cheek on his chest. Rudan thought briefly of Lutra and patted his mother's bony back lightly.

When she drew away, she held him still and looked him up and down, then nodded to herself.

"You need to eat." Ariana stated.

She always did. Every morning. Every night. When he was sad, when he was happy, when he was angry or apathetic. Food was her solution to everything, especially to the problem of Rudan's poor performance. And today it seemed, she assumed giving him his favourite food would somehow make him outdo himself. In reality, the poor otterlad felt even more pressured. He rolled his shoulders to rid himself of the sensation of weight, and offered his mother a tentative smile. She beamed back at him, nodding again in approval.

"See! Just smile, my son! Everything will be fine." Ariana trilled, and turned back to the fire, turning the spinefish skewered upon a spit with great care. Rudan watched her work as he leant against the wall, then set his jaw and looked out of the window. This portal gave a view of the fence around the village, and the tight throng of trees beyond. From here, Rudan could also see the empty house, looking even more ramshackle in the light of day. He knew that, despite how afraid he'd been the previous night, he just had to look inside. Even just a peep through one of the shattered windows.

For how long he stared, he never did know, but it took his mother thwacking him upon the forearm with a fork to shake him from his thoughts. The two-tined implement was then trust into his paw, even as he was chivvied through the empty doorframe and into the conjoined living room, where a tallwort table stood. Six chairs ringed the circular piece of furniture, itself decorated with an embroidered tablecloth that carried the names of all their ancestors, as far back as six generations.

"Come along now, Rudan, your father will be in shortly!" His mother fussed at him while he sat and began to eat, jabbing at a chunk of spinefish and maneuvering it into his mouth with one hand. The other hand was lifted up high as the older otterlady pulled at his longcoat. It was typical for her to complain about the fit of his clothes while disregarding her hers hung from her slim form rather unflatteringly.

As his mother had promised, Rudan's father stomped into the room soon after the young man had begun eating, his own plate of roast spinefish and boiled potatoes held in one huge paw. He carefully lowered himself into one of the chairs and dug his own fork into his meal, eating it with no leisure. Rudan was still only part-way done when Gart nudged his plate away and belched, holding his arms out to Ariana. She smiled adoringly at him and they embraced, leaving Rudan to turn his head away and mock-gag. They remained locked together for a score of seconds, with a fair bit of light petting occurring, before Ariana pulled away and took Gart's clean plate into the kitchen.

"Rudan." His father said suddenly. Rudan looked up, lowered his fork back to his plate. The spinefish seemed to come alive in his stomach, flopping and wriggling around as he met his father's black eyes with his sapphire ones. "You'll do fine." He said gruffly, then stood and fetched his spear.

"I'll be waiting outside, don't be too long." Gart added before he left.

Rudan looked down at his plate. The reassuring words washed over him like the waves upon a beach, and he flipped the fork over and over in his paw. He still felt sick. The smell of the spinefish wasn't pleasing to him anymore, as he got to his feet and followed his father out of the house.

Outside, the sun had risen a little further and had begun to strengthen. Still, this was the north of Eirlund, so it wasn't all that much of a difference. Rudan stepped up beside his father and glanced up at him. The older otter placed a hand on his shoulder for the briefest of seconds, then stomped off down the dirt path towards the beach and the tiny port of the village. Rudan followed quickly, taking two steps for every one that his father did. As they walked, the otterlad looked around at the village. Today, it seemed different for some reason. Puzzled, he paid more attention to his home than usual.

There was Kor, leaving his own house to go to the forge. He looked the same as always, entirely silver-furred, ancient, and yet stronger than a good portion of the hunters in the village. Rudan could hear Lutra and her somewhat large family of two siblings, and parents, inside their house as they passed it. The tallworts still rustled in the breeze, like whispering mouths. The dirt underfoot was still that mixture of sand and soil that stuck between his toes as a child. And when he looked up at the sky and inhaled that familiar scent of seasalt, gutted fish, fire-smoke and oiled metal, Rudan could see no difference in the blue-grey expanse. It was a strange sensation, something that made the fur on the nape of his neck stand up. Something was different, but whatever it was escaped Rudan, utterly.

So they walked on, through the paths of Verdigris, and as they walked, Rudan struggled to ignore this pervading feeling of oddness. He didn't have much luck, however, even when the pair finally arrived at the port and all chance of getting out of this ill-fated venture faded. Rudan eyed the boat that the village called its "fishing ship". It sat upon twelve massive bloodoak trunks, coiled lengths of rope attached to various copper hooks set into the fore-deck railing. The hull of the ship, as far as Rudan knew, was made out of thick copper, plated over a ribcage of Hellbone wood. The bones of the ship were made from the only known Hellbone tree in the whole of the forest, and were constantly checked and re-checked for signs of wear. The villagers likely didn't need to check so much, as to hear Kor tell it, the Hellbone tree had been the single largest and strongest tree that Verdigris had ever felled. It took a team of six, six days and six nights of camping at the foot of the tree

Some of the wood had been used to make the wheel, and the railings. All were carved in exquisite quality by Zood, the master craftsman, who had long since died. Inside the great belly of this twenty-five foot beast was a large furnace, powered by coal, which drove the main wheel. Flanking the main wheel were two smaller, auxiliary wheels which were built into swivelling mounts, allowing the craft to be steered. Aside from the engine room, the entire ship was given over to a colossal cargo hold, used to store the catch.

Stood before this metal monster, Rudan always felt humbled by it. It consumed more coal in one trip than their family did in a year, and it could speed through the waves like a hot knife through butter, thanks to its pointed prow. It was terrifying and awe-inspiring equally to the otterlad, and he always felt he should ask for its permission before he stepped aboard, in the same way he might as the Guardian Season to protect him.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder and he started. His head snapped up and he beheld his father, spear glinting in the morning sun.

"Don't worry, we'll not be riding aboard the Verdigris Patina today." Gart said encouragingly, as he guided Rudan to one of the much smaller craft, instead. It was a two-person fishing vessel made by Artom's father, the current master craftsman of the village. He had something of a fascination with naming the boats. The one that Gart almost shoved Rudan into, he learned that evening, was called the Angler's Mirran. Rudan would also learn that evening that a Mirran was the name of a strange four legged creature with hooves, that served both as a beast of burden, and a mount.

The boat was well made and sturdy, but Rudan couldn't bring himself to let go of the sides, which he clutched tightly. One could hardly blame him, for his father dropped into the craft and virtually capsized it outright, laughing to himself as the resulting spray of seawater dampened them both.

"Nothin' like a baptism from the sea for an omen, eh, lad?" Gart asked cheerily in his booming voice, as he laid his spear in the bottom of the Angler's Mirran. Rudan's lips twitched in a wary half-smile, which seemed to please the older otter enough. Gart reached to his right to untie the tiny vessel and cast them off, but paused.

"Rudan, hoist the sail, now." The otterlad faltered, torn between obeying his father's request and keeping a safe grip on the sides as the craft lurched about under his bulk. Shortly, the former urge won out and he quickly raised the small triangle of sailcloth to the top of the mast and tied it off. At the same time, his father undid the knots holding the Angler's Mirran in place, and they immediately began drifting away. The coastal winds had a clockwork-esque habit of doubling back on themselves as the sun reached half-climb, and those winds caught the sail within a minute of raising the sail. It suddenly puffed out, and off they went, slowly at first but then gathering speed.

Soon, they were well away from the shallower waters, the two of them, alone.