Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime.
Áile hated the smell of fish.
Not because she didn't like the taste of fish, or even that the smell itself was bad. Because it reminded her of her father. She'd never met the man, had no idea what he looked like. But she did know that he was a fisherman. That alone was enough to make her anger rise to the surface, her small hands clench and shake as she hid among the barrels and nets, watching the activity on the docks.
But louder than that was the painful gnawing in her gut. It was always there these days, never satisfied by the scraps she was able to feed to the monster. It was always there, always growling, familiar and hated. It had been especially loud the last few days, furious at her for not feeding it.
It wasn't her fault. She'd tried. But there was no work to be found, not for a filthy, barefoot child with tangled hair and a sullen face. Begging had only earned her scorn, a few kicks, and a call for the guards.
She didn't have any other choice. Mother was starving. She was starving. And she was the only one who could feed them. So she made her way to the docks an hour before dawn and waited, shivering in the cold, for the boats to come in with their haul.
Áile felt nearly frozen solid when they finally arrived. Her bones creaked as she leaned forward, rubbing her hands and arms to bring life back into them. The smell was nauseating, but the sight of the nets straining to hold hundreds of fish made the monster in her gut roar. Just one of those fat fish would be a fine meal. They might even both be able to eat today. All she had to do was be quick, and quiet. Silent as a mouse.
She waited patiently as the fisherman went about their business. Some of them she knew by name. They used to visit Mother, before the accident. They asked her if she was well and stayed for supper, chatting and drinking and being kind to the poor alchemist and her young daughter. After they lost their home, they stopped visiting. They didn't care. And that was why Áile didn't care one tiny bit about stealing from them. It served them right. They abandoned her and Mother just like Father did.
Little by little, Áile crept closer and closer to the boats. The men were talking, laughing, hauling boxes of fish. They didn't notice the pale little mouse creeping closer and closer to the net still hanging from the side of the nearest boat.
She'd had plenty of time to decide what fish to grab. It was as long as her arm, almost, and nearly falling from the net, caught in place by his gill. A hard tug would free him, and then she just needed to run. There was a way into the city not far from here, a secret path. She could do this. It would be easy. Just a little bit closer..
Now! She grabbed the fish with both hands, but it was fatter than she expected, harder to pull free, and slippery. Áile almost shrieked when it started to flail weakly. But she grit her teeth, planted her heels in the damp wood of the dock, and pulled with all her might.
When the fish finally came free with a ripping sound, she flew backwards, losing her grip on it. She scrambled to catch it, and just then one of the men shouted.
She didn't know if he was yelling at her, and she didn't wait a second to find out. With the fish held tightly to her chest, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her.
Áile didn't look back, not even once. She just kept running. By the time she got back into the city, her chest and throat ached, and her legs and arms were trembling. If they caught her, she'd be thrown into jail, where the bad men were. It would be cold and dark, and Mother would starve without her. She couldn't get caught, no matter what. No matter-
And then she ran into something solid, and was knocked to the ground.
Her head was ringing. It hurt. And the fish was gone. With a frightened gasp, Áile sat up and looked around. What she saw was a lizard-man, holding her injured fish and looking at it with interest.
She was numb with terror. She'd seen the lizard man around before. He was rude to everyone, and shoved her aside once when she was in his way. But now he was looking at her with those unnatural golden eyes, and she had no idea what he was going to do.
Fighting her trembling limbs, Áile stood up, then held out her hand. "That's mine. Give it back."
She couldn't be sure, but she thought that he might have grinned. She held her chin high and gave him the look Mother used to give her when she did something that made her mad. "I said, it's mine, so-"
That was when she heard the city gates open, and more shouting. The color drained from her face. Her eyes flew from the dark street behind them, to the lizard-man, the fish, and then to the alleyway nearby. She couldn't get arrested. Mother would starve. But she'd starve without the fish, too.
Then, the lizard-man tossed it to her. Shocked, Áile barely managed to catch it.
"Find me tomorrow, and I'll show you how not to get caught next time, girl." This time, she was sure that he was grinning. "Not for free, of course, but we'll sort that out later. Now go."
Áile didn't wait for him to change his mind. She turned and fled. For a moment she could hear the lizard-man saying something to whoever was coming near, but her heart was beating too loudly to make out the words. She just ran and ran until she finally made it back to Mother.
And the next day, with the monster in her stomach a little less angry than before, but still growling, always growling, she went to see the lizard-man.