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                                    Heretical Fishing - Chapter 6: Home
                            
                                                            
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                                        Chapter 7: The Cult of Carcinization
                                
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... was anything but empty of life.
Small weeds, grasses, and bushes grew sporadically, with small wren-like birds flying between them and making pretty sounds as they snatched up insects.
I was tempted to walk directly down to the beach and make my way along it, but I had a better view of my lands from between the shoreline and the forest, and there was yet plenty of time in the day.
There were a few spindly trees that looked half-dead—the kind that even a cyclone had no ch ...
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