Elliot dragged her mud-slick boots up what used to be a trail. Thick snow hugged her pack, she had been hiking for at least two hours. She neared the end of the clearing - a frozen lake flanked by birch trees. Unloading her gear, she remembered the fond memories she made here. Catching her first fish and seeing the proud beam on her father's face, feeling his rough hands clap the back of her head in approval and hollow laughs that seemed to echo for miles in the cold.
She cranked the tunneling auger until the ice gave, sloshing with the quiet lapping of unconfined waves. Fingernails digging, she managed to heave the ice to the surface. Releasing a pent-up sigh, she rested her legs and let her bait sink. The peaceful cooing of mourning doves broke the stillness now and again. Elliot yearned for this kind of quiet, crickets chirping, wind whistling, and soft thuds of far-off footfall from weary predators. Her breath was hazy in the bitter cold and she watched plumes of it hike to the sky while her line simmered. Fresh mildew scored the inside of her nose, steadily becoming more potent.
Abruptly, her line grew taut and started to jitter within the hole. From the bent tip, she knew it was a big one. Sliding her fingertips onto the rod’s shaft, she patiently awaited the strike of the unknown predator. She scanned the water's surface for any movement. Small flickers of silver encircled her line. Minnows. If bait fish were interested in her lure, surely a lake monster would come. Her heart pounded, adrenaline bubbling in her muscles. She felt her fingers come loose as a force seized her bait. In a flicking motion, she whipped the rod back, securing the hook in its mouth. It fought like a tree stump, straining her sides with each crank. It was a torturous fight, the fish was near the bottom and weighed like a stack of elephants. She had only prepared for small rainbow trout and used a corresponding weak line. The danger of the line snapping was too high and keeping tension started to seem like an uphill battle. Planting her foot on the crest of the hole, she yanked upwards and reeled just as her father taught her. Progress was slowly made, and its hulky figure struggled in the dark water. It was a northern pike, as long as a human arm, and thicker than firewood. Its green and grey scales glared from under the clouded ice—a murky beast.