Coldsnap: The Billionaire Alpha's Fated Pregnant Princess (GL)
Chapter 132 - Combining Hobbies: Foodagraphy

Chapter 132: Chapter 132 - Combining Hobbies: Foodagraphy

Our fourth cache had rolled down further than expected, settling in a depression near the pond’s deepest point. Thankfully it didn’t take too long to actually trace its path and I got it to drier land easily enough.

The fish I threw was even larger than I’d estimated - a beautiful ’northern pike’ with distinctive markings and probably more than ten pounds of fresh catch. It reminded me of... what I believe would be similar to ’carp’ here, that were stocked in the royal garden’s pond.

"I’d always wanted to eat another one of those, but I don’t think the Queen Mother would have believed it was not me who poached it again."

I still have many hours to go on the Task and the rain looks like it might pick up for a while... so it might be a good idea to take a longer break than I did after the ravine. All in all, not bad for a morning’s work? Not that I’ve ever... ’worked’.

Looking around to make sure no scavenger is going to come steal my catch, I start to walk to the shipping container doors... then walk back. Dragging the fish by the tail, I keep it where I can see it before I somewhat waste one bottled water.

After washing any pond muck out of my hair - and some of it off my feet - I reach for one of the cheap towels I’d purchased after getting stuck in that thunderstorm. The march back from that park all the way to the Oak Knot was long.

"There are just so many stores in a city. How is a person supposed to pass by every one? Especially when they have signs about ’sales’ plastered outside. The merchants here are just so, so evil."

And of course, the cashier had looked sympathetic on seeing my still somewhat damp clothes. Made worse by strolling through the last drizzles from the storm yesterday morning. He offered me a coupon for an umbrella.

> Lightning rods. That’s all they are. <

Helene’s memories painted a terrible picture of the objects... due to stories she’d heard second hand. Not helped by the fact that I had an eldest brother with a first wife that liked to carry a parasol at all times of the day.

I’d rather not be reminded of her, the troublesome woman. At least she kept most of his harem in line and the infighting between them out of the rest of court politics... for the most part.

But as much as I hated to think of her - again - she was an excellent painter and might have loved exploring the photography that I’ve found so fascinating. Maybe I could show her a thing or two instead of just getting those disgusted looks at my attempts at calligraphy...

Studying my impressive pike, I realized this deserved a proper photo. The sleek body and markings, even a little dirty from our struggle, were beautiful in their own way. Not to mention, I’d earned the right to show off a little.

"Maybe I’ll... send her a trophy shot. Why not? It doesn’t really express where I am or what I’m really doing. And it’s amusing to think of the baffled look she might grow on her face to suddenly see I’ve sent her such a thing!"

Trying not to smile, I picked up the fish and carried it to a spot away from the shipping container. It would ruin any natural aesthetic, even beyond the other reasons not to let it appear in a picture.

A few quick test shots, after scrubbing it off in the pond water, tell me that the overcast sky is actually not bad. Slightly helpful, providing even illumination without too much shine. And the backdrop of cattails and dark water helps frame the shot nicely with a natural look.

> But it needs something for scale. How else will the impressiveness of this fish be properly portrayed?! <

Vrika really did not care, but bending down and testing a picture with my hand nearby... works? It also seems to work to ruin the good angles and overall composition potentials. I eventually settled for one of my sapphire sphere hair ties near its mouth.

The first few shots were adequate, but I soon got lost in trying a little of everything. Full length shots with low angles were nice, but anything that made the fish’s eye catch the low light gave me a disturbing sense of death.

I’m not sure how long I was leaning into this new hobby of mine, but the brilliant white light that split the sky decided it was long enough. The crack of thunder a few seconds later made me jump and nearly drop the phone as I’d turned quickly to go store it away.

The storm had built while I was absorbed in my photography session. Dark clouds now dominated the sky in one direction... and a wall of rain could be seen pouring down. The kind that an umbrella never would have helped against!

> So much for a relaxing noon rest. I might need your mental support, friend. Pal. Okay? <

I hastened to move things inside. Bravely traveling back out, I gathered the fish while shifting into the hybrid form. Closing the shipping container door with the latch as larger raindrops began to fall.

The pike’s head crunched satisfyingly, distractingly, between my fangs. Bones gave way to powerful jaws while my clawed fingers maintained an almost elegant, absolutely not shaking grip on the body.

Each bite was rich, fresh nutrition. And all too soon it was gone... all dozen pounds of it. All too soon, I had nothing to do but stand there and anticipate the next violent crashing sound from the heavens here in the dark.

Nervously, I picked up the cache I’d retrieved. Turning it over in my clawed hands to examine the sealed ends for something to do. The caps were fitted tight - they weren’t just twisting off.

> Maybe if I could wedge a thin knife at the seam where the cap meets- <

A brilliant flash illuminated the container’s interior through the small ventilation gaps. Followed immediately by a crack that seemed to split the world in half - not from the thunder, but from my claws.

They punched straight through the end cap material before I even realized I’d moved! Growling, I tried to carefully extract my claws to not damage anything else inside while holding the cylinder steady with my other hand.

Then the thunder finally came and I tensed again. Claws that had been gently wobbling free suddenly gouged further through the cap material and tugged it off. It bounced deeper into the container as the plastic bag spilled out of the torn opening with a crunch.

> Perfect. Just perfect. I bet at least something in there is broken now, huh? <

The storm was turning me into a nervous wreck with sharp weapons for fingers. I momentarily feel something about this reminds me of a movie Helene had watched in her youth... an outcast with dangerous hands.

I let go of the damaged container carefully and allowed the transformation back to human form to begin slowly with my eyes shut, not wanting to panic from another heavenly bolt. The familiar sensations feel my head of bones reshaping, fur receding, and claws retracting.

"Vrika, I hate this world. I hate your lightning. I hate... well, okay that’s about it but it’s enough!"

Stomping over to my fleece blanket, I pulled my knees up and wrapped it around myself. Then my arms around my legs as I buried my face into them... and spit out a wolf hair.

The rational part of my mind knew I was safe inside the shipping container while away from the walls. Metal conducts but then it will ground to the earth. Plus, it’s more likely to strike a taller tree than this object.

The less rational part kept flinching at every rumble and flash as the sound of rain picked up on top of metal. Vrika sent impressions of warmth and companionship, reminding me that I wasn’t entirely alone.

But as happy as I am that the spirit is a good hearted individual... my phone sat nearby where I’d left it. Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed for it.

Selected the best shot I’d taken of the fish. Sent it to Kyrie without any other message.

Then I sat there staring at the screen, phone clutched in both hands. Feeling like what I was actually holding was my own too loud heart.

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