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rare, as evidenced by yet another net Jeska would have to mend that night.

Thankfully, her own net had held up under her ministrations and her catch was sufficient enough for a decent day’s work.  Using the delicate nets to trawl through the water was the only real way to catch the Hornblowers, which were attracted to the sparkly thin wire they were constructed from, since they completely ignored any type of bait dangled in front of their wide-open mouths.  It had taken years of experimentation by her father to develop the trawling nets so that more than a few of the fish could be caught every day, and now everyone was using his technique.

Fortunately, despite the “gold rush” on the delicious fish, their numbers never seemed to shrink.  In order to keep up with the ever-increasing demand for the Hornblower on other parts of the island, more and more were being caught every day.  That number had stabilized over the last few months, luckily, because otherwise the market would’ve been flooded.

Looking at their catch, the dozens of fish now secured in a large bin in the center of their skiff, she couldn’t help but think that their name was a bit of a misnomer.  Even though they were called “Golden-scaled”, their scales weren’t actually gold – more of a pale-yellow color – and they certainly weren’t made of the precious metal.  Despite that, they were prized for their delicious, mouth-watering flavor when cooked, fried, pureed, and even eaten raw (which Jeska thought disgusting, but she wasn’t going to tell other people how to eat it – as long as they bought it from her).

“Alright, you muscled-brained idiot – stop flexing and get us back to shore.”  She slapped him on his stomach with the back of her hand with force, causing him to double over in mock pain.  She knew it was fake because hitting him felt like hitting a brick wall, so it was her hand that hurt a little bit.

“Ha ha!  To shore we go!” he rang out in a sing-song tone of voice, before quickly grabbing the oars and getting to work.  Their small boat rocked with the sudden acceleration and she nearly fell off the side, but she managed to hang on with a scowl at her brother’s smiling face.  Jerk.  He did that on purpose. 

In less than 10 minutes, far faster than any other vessel could travel amid the Farvale Ocean, they were nearing the thriving city of Chardelia.  Because all of the piers along the harbor were full – which seemed to be the norm now that there was a surplus of available Hornblowers available to ship to distant places – Jeska and her family were forced to beach their skiff outside of the city proper.  However, that was more than fine with them, because their house and attached warehouse/workshop were located near the south side of town, right off the beach for easy access.

As they prepared to beach their boat, Jeska pulled the stray locks of pale-blonde hair away from her face and gathered them up behind her head, tying them in a loose knot.  Ever since she had gotten a chunk of it caught in a jutting splinter on the side of the skiff when disembarking, she had automatically tied it back whenever she was ready to jump off.  The rest of the time, she usually let it flow free with the smell of saltwater winds blowing through—

“Whoa!  Slow down, Arcen!” she yelled back at him, the distraction with her hair causing her to forget to warn him when they were getting close.  Again, her brother was strong, so it was barely any effort for him to reverse his wide strokes and slow them down in time; therefore, instead of slamming into the sand of the beach like they were hitting a wall, they glided in smoothly and settled into their customary groove.

“Thanks for the timely warning, sis!” Arcen joked, before stowing the oars away.

Jeska ignored him and jumped off the side, looking towards their house for some sign that their father was home.  Nope, doesn’t look like it; his workshop is all closed up.  That didn’t really concern her, though, because Rosara was coming their way with a predatory grin on her face.  I don’t envy Arcen; that woman is a handful.

“Arcy!  You’re back!  I’ve been waiting forever for you to come home.”

Her brother whipped around from pulling the skiff further up the beach, where it would sit securely in another depression that typically held it there until they went out the next day.  “Oh. Hi, Rosara.  How are you today?”

The other woman pushed out her already-overbearing chest when Arcen turned towards her, the buttons holding the fabric over her cleavage threatening to pop off.  Jeska gagged internally at how obvious the other woman was being at trying to gain his attention, though she grudgingly admitted that Rosara was somewhat attractive – and not just because of the way she flaunted her bustline.  Of course, her brother wasn’t entirely immune to her attempts at charming him, but he also was smart enough to know what she was doing.

Whether or not he appreciated the attention was something she couldn’t quite gauge, however.

Rosara got close enough to peer inside of their skiff, seeing the box of fish being kept alive by the saltwater inside.  “Oh!  You have so many of those golden fish!  I bet you caught all of those by yourself, didn’t you, Arcy?”

He just shook his head, not being one to take credit for something he didn’t do.  “Nope. I actually didn’t catch any of these, Jeska did.  I accidentally tore—”

“Oh, I’m sure you tried your hardest, Arcy dear.”  A casual hand placed against his chest when she spoke was enough for Jeska to nearly laugh at her brother’s face.  He was doing his best not to look annoyed, but after

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