[color=Skyblue]“Oh no, it’s fine, [i]I’ll[/i] deal with the fish. The kale patch is growing along nicely and the pots are moved, you know I get bored without something to do...”[/color]

[i]Crack[/i].

[color=Skyblue]“Smooth fucking move, Sam.”[/color]

[i]Crack[/i].

[color=Skyblue]“And I swear to God, if I lose my [i]other[/i] fingers to frostbite-”[/color]

[i]Crack.[/i]

[color=Skyblue]“Well... at least it’d be more bait for the fish.”[/color]

[i]Crack.[/i]

[color=Skyblue]“Heh. Finger food.”[/color]

One last [i]crack[/i] sounded out, though muffled rather than echoing. The curse that spilled from Sam’s lips was more prominent as she pulled her jacket away from the frozen river surface, tossing the large stick she was using to the side. For a moment she ignored the ice at her feet her to check her jacket, humming thoughtfully. A little damp, but not bad considering what she was using it for.

Before the blonde lay the river her little group of survivors frequented, especially throughout the winter months. That was no surprise of course, considering that Sam’s various potted plants she had brought along in her Mustang months back weren’t going to feed them all. Even if the kale patch she had transplanted to the ground for the winter months was thriving for the most part.

Sam hated kale anyway, those were by far her least favorite children.

So here she was, checking the traps weighted down to the bottom of the river for fish. It was all fine and dandy, except the ice had frozen over. Again. So that led to getting Brooklyn to bring her the biggest stick she could find, then Sam shed her jacket to place over the ice to muffle the sound of repeated strikes and breaking ice. It was tiring work, but finally the last trap was free and Sam could pull it out-

[color=Skyblue]“Oh you’ve got to be fuckin’ me.”[/color] The blonde stated flatly, lifting up a flapping little fish with her three-fingered hand, the thing barely bigger than her middle finger. [color=Skyblue]“All that effort for this little fucker. I have bigger fish on my arm.”[/color] Another curse before Sam shoved the trap back in the water, letting it sink to the bottom. One last strike, once more muffled – though this time it was by flesh and scale rather than her jacket.

Tossing the now unmoving and slightly bloody fish into the partially filled bucket beside her Sam finally rose. Pulling the dark grey jacket on once more a shiver wracked through her body but she didn’t make comment about it before hefting up the bucket of fish and turning to her ‘lookout’.

[color=Skyblue]“Alright, let’s head back. Carry this. I don’t want to.”[/color]

A pause.

[color=Skyblue]“... Please.”[/color]