There was a badger. His name was Herby. He had a wife and three children. One day his wife said, 'Herby, why don't you go out fishing and catch us some fish so that we can have something for dinner
'Okay, Swanilda,' he said, (for her name was Swanilda), 'I'll go out and catch us some fish. You keep busy and warm with the kids, and I'll be back in two hours.'
And so, Herby went into the shed behind the house, packed up some fishing supplies: pole, line, lure, bait, and hook. 'Hum, de hum, hum, hum,' he sang as he tossed it over his back in a bag and made his way down into the woods, through the valley, and down to the blue, rushing river, sparkling with whitewater, swimming with trout, brim, and mackerel.
He hummed and whistled to himself as he set up his line. The birds were singing in the sky and in the trees above him.
It was about 6 o' clock; the sun was getting closer to the horizon.
Herby took in the deep, lush green of the trees, and the muddy, earthy brown of the trunks. He smelled the fresh, clean water and the earth itself. 'I'll be sure to catch some fish, today,' he thought, cheerfully, to himself. It didn't matter to 'im that it was pretty late.
He put 'is line in the water, and started to wait. He sat on a boulder that was right there next to the water. The birds continued to sing in the trees. 3 minutes passed, 5 minutes. Nothing had come and bit his line. 10 minutes, 15, 20. 'This river is usually so rich with fish and animal life,' he thought. 'I would have definitely thought that something would have bit my hook by now,' he thought. 30 minutes had passed.
Just then, he Saw something dark and brooding, ominous, lurking on the horizon, beyond the edge of
That's it for today. Cliffhanger. Come back tomorrow to see what happens next in this story. Thanks for reading.
Slade
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