"We will stay here for a while. You need to become stronger and we will need food to reach the next oasis." Vincent picked a shady spot at random and deposited his pack and rifle. His cloak and bandana followed, folded neatly and set on top. Unbuckling his boots and slipping them off, he set them primly beside the pack. He could feel Jacob's keen gaze on him as he unbuckled his gauntlet, slipping his hand out of it and setting it on top of his cloak. Vincent flexed the fingers of his left hand, feeling the scar tissue stretch as his knuckles popped. He pulled his shirt over his head, folding it neatly and placing it on top of his boots. Without a backward glance at Jacob, though he could feel the boys' incredulous gaze on his back the whole time, he stripped his pants off too, those following the suit of his shirt. He walked to the edge of the water, stepping in so quietly that the water barely rippled. Vincent let himself sigh, his breath so quiet even he barely heard it. He wiggled his toes and waited patiently for the fish to become interested. A couple smaller fry approached cautiously, but they were too small to suit his needs. He wiggled his toes again, stirring the soft sand of the bottom. A dark silver flash caught his eye a second before the small fries scattered to the four winds. A large catfish, easily three feet long, swam lazily towards him. Slowly, ever so slowly, Vincent lowered his right hand into the water, taking great care not to cause any ripples. The catfish swam closer, passing over his fingers. He wiggled his fingers, easing them towards the fishs' sensitive underbelly. With lightning quickness, Vincent yanked his hand upward, hooking his fingers in the fishs' gill slits. With a triumphant snort, he flung the fish at Jacob. The boy caught it, quickly dashing its' head against a tree to kill it. Vincent nodded in approval before resuming his patient fishing. When he was satisfied with the number of dead fish on the beach, he stepped out of the water, gathered the fish into a neat pyramid by the side of one of the flat stones at the waters edge and proceeded to clean them.
'''Do you want me to help?''' Jacob signed, then cursed himself in his head. How was Vincent supposed to 'hear' him when he couldn't see him?
"You can start a fire. I assume you know how to use Materia?" Vincent said without looking up from skinning and gutting fish. He had a large array of them before him on the stone, all large, in various stages of being cleaned. The boy shook his head, his dreads flying.
'''I have never heard of it. My village was very far away, and no one was near enough to us for us to get information.''' Jacob replied, forgetting again that the man couldn't see his hands. Vincent nodded, again without looking up, his fingers deftly slicing open the belly of a fish and removing the guts into a bucket.
"You can build the fire then. I will light it when I am done." Jacob nodded and went off in search of dead wood to use. It took him a long while to find enough wood, being that it was dark, and the moon wasn't up yet. He trudged back to the lake, his arms trembling from the strain of carrying the wood. Vincent was where he'd left him, working on the last fish. All the others were neatly spitted on branches, waiting to be cooked. Jacob dumped the wood unceremoniously in the spot Vincent indicated, letting himself fall to the ground in a likewise manner. Vincent glanced at him as he finished scaling the final fish and spitted it. He stabbed the stick into the sand and stood, dusting himself off. Jacob noticed with a blush that Vincent hadn't put his clothes back on. The practical part of his mind said it would be easier to clean the fish blood off with only bare skin to worry about and a tiny part of his brain sniggered at the realization that the lean young man's carpet matched his drapes. Vincent quickly showed him how to arrange the sticks in the best formation for easy starting, though Jacobs' eyes kept wandering south. If Vincent noticed the discomfort the boy was in he chose not to show it. The boys' attention was drawn elsewhere when Vincent produced a colorful palm-sized marble from what seemed like thin air.
"This is Materia, a Fire Materia to be precise. Tell me what you feel." he said, handing over the orb. Jacob cupped it in his palm, half afraid of dropping and loosing it in the sand. The orb was very light, and much warmer than it should have been just from Vincent holding it. It looked like there was a tiny fie burning in the heart of the Materia. He handed it back before signing,
'''It feels much warmer than it should be.'''
"Each Materia has a different feel to it. You have felt Fire. It is only one of four that I have in my possession currently. The rest of my collection is safe, far from harm. Would you like me to teach you how to use them?" At Jacobs' excited nod, Vincent rose gracefully to his feet, padded quietly to his pack and knelt to rummage in one of the pouches. While he was there, he slipped back into his pants; for that, Jacob was grateful, as it was getting hard not to stare. When Vincent came back, he proffered his hand, rolling the three orbs around his palm. At his slight nod, Jacob took them delicately, inhaling sharply at the slight buzz from the yellow orb, the chill from the blue-white orb, and the sense of peace from the green orb. Vincent took the Fire Materia and focused his blood red eyes on the pile of wood.
"FIRE." he intoned, feeling the slight drain on his energy. The wood took almost instantly, crackling cheerfully. Vincent snagged the spitted fish and set them over the fire to cook. In a few minutes, the meat was crisping and the savory aroma had both their mouths watering. While they waited, Vincent taught Jacob how to use the different Materia; it seemed that the scrawny boy had a knack for magic. When the intoxicating scent of the roasting fish became too much, he chose the tastiest looking fish, which also happened to be the biggest, and handed it to Jacob. The boy took it gingerly, blowing on it to cool it before taking a delicate bite. He chewed and swallowed, his eyes closing in pleasure at the taste. Vincent chose one for himself, not bothering with the ritualistic cooling. He had always been partial to catfish. Growing up in Wutai where there had been fish hatcheries, it had been easy to get them at a cheap price. It had been significantly harder to come by catfish when he had moved to Midgar, but his healthy paycheck had seen to it that he got the best fish when they were to be had.
'''May I have another?''' Jacob asked, setting the picked-clean skeleton of the fish on the sand beside him. Vincent waved a hand lazily at him. He had caught so many intending for them all to be eaten either by himself or the boy. He intended to use the fish guts as bait to catch more and bigger fish to dry for travel rations. While he was at it, he could see what trees had fruit to offer. If he was lucky, he might be able to catch a bird or two as well. When the boy was finally full, he had eaten a grand total of six fish, to Vincents' three. The skeletons made a small pile between them. The fire had died down to sullenly smoldering coals. Vincent rose to his feet gracefully, scooping up the four Materia, returning them to their pouch, and started picking up the dropped boughs from the palm trees. With precision, he arranged them into a tight, but soft, bed. Over it, he laid his cloak.
"You may sleep here." he said, taking a few large palm leaves and moving back to the fire to wrap the leftover fish and bury them in the sand. Jacob acquiesced, too tired to even think of putting up any form of resistance. He made sure the boy was sleeping soundly before taking his pants off again and slipping into the placid waters of the lake. He judged that Jacob would sleep like the dead for a good many hours, so he had plenty of time to catch enough fish to dry. But first, he was going to enjoy the water. Vincent stroked from one end of the lake to the other and back again, feeling the delicious burn in underworked muscles. When he had completed ten laps, he climbed out, wringing the water from his hair back into the lake. With quiet steps, he padded past the sleeping boy, pulled a length of rope from his pack, grabbed the bucket of guts, and padded back to the lakeshore. He spent the next few hours baiting the larger fish, slipping the rope through their gills when he caught them. When the rope was full, he deemed his work satisfying. Leaving the rope of fish in the water, he climbed out, again wringing his hair back into the lake. Making a small depression in the sand beside Jacobs' bed, Vincent lay down beside him to catch his own forty winks.
A sense of intense rage woke him, rousing him from deep sleep to full alert in a matter of seconds. Vincent shot to his feet, his right hand closing instinctively around the butt of his gun. Cursing his laxness, he snatched up his gauntlet and jammed his left hand and arm into it, cinching the buckles tight with savage yanks of his head. Crimson eyes peered into the undergrowth, searching for the source of his unease. A pair of sulfurous yellow eyes burned from beneath the cover of the bushes. Vincent took careful aim, sighting along the barrel. The eyes blinked, and he had a seconds' warning growl before the creature lunged at him. He went down in a tangle of limbs with two-inch-long fangs snapping at his throat; his gun was knocked from his hand and went skidding in the sand. The beast was huge, easily a match for his Galian Beast, if he'd still possessed it. He got his gauntlet up, closing the serrated fingers around the beasts' throat; at every snap and lunge the beast made, Vincent tightened his fingers more. When he thought he couldn't make his hand constrict any further, the beast gave a wet gurgle and collapsed on top of him. The beast had weight to match its' size, a detached part of his brain noted. He shoved it off with a grunt of effort, getting to his feet to survey the beast. It was massive, easily ten feet from wet black nose to bushy tail tip. It had thick, rough, coal black fur shot through with threads of silver, but underneath the concealment of the fur, Vincent could see how thin its' body was. Looking closer, he could see that the creature was male, though it was hard to tell at first glance beneath the thick coat of fur. The creature was still breathing, but it was bleeding somewhat heavily from the gashes Vincents' fingers had left in its' neck. Luckily, he had more rope, so he could tie the beast up after tending its' wounds. As he moved to his pack, he noticed that the bed he had made for Jacob was empty. He didn't think much of it; maybe the boy had just gotten up to attend to natures' call. He retrieved the other rope and some bandages, and returned to the beast. It hadn't moved, but the puddle of blood had turned into a small pool. Vincent grimaced, hastening to bandage the wounds. Blood soaked through the bandages quickly; he tossed the soiled ones aside and applied new ones. He worked in a semi-frenetic manner, his hands flying through the life-saving techniques he'd learned as a young man. Finally, he sat back on his heels to survey his handiwork. For not having needed the knowledge in many years, he was pleased to see that he had not forgotten it; he was also grateful for the deeply ingrained training that had kept him in the habit of keeping a fully stocked med-kit, even though he himself had lost the need for it a long long time ago. Mindful of the bandages, he wound the rope securely around the beasts legs, making sure the knots wouldn't come undone if it struggled. Satisfied with his knot-work, he rose, pulled his pants on, and went in search of more firewood, the embers of the fire having gone cold while he was working.