"Why?"

His eye narrowed and his voice grew thick with anger. But he wasn't angry with me. His rage was aimed at the creature he sought. "It killed my father," he said. "And it killed his father, too.It killed my only brother, my sons, my nephews-fishermen, all it took them to their deaths on this sea of blood. In the end, my wife died of… neglect… grief. Now I'm alone. No family. Nobody. An old man with nothing in his heart but the desire for revenge." He lifted his head and stared at the sky with a fire in his eyes. "And I'll have that revenge!" he shouted into the night. "I swear it!"

If Six-Finger kept yelling like that, he was going to scare away the fish. He had already scared me.

I forgot all about his ravings when he offered me one of his wheat cakes. I gobbled it down so fast that the old man offered me a piece of fruit from his bag. "What about you?" I asked, not wanting to appear unmindful of my host (and wanting to keep his mind off the Blood Sea Monster). "Aren't you going to eat?"

"My appetite isn't what it used to be," he said with a sigh. "I don't eat half of the things I bring along. Most of the time I throw my leftover food overboard for the fish to eat. A man can't take from the Blood Sea without giving something back," he said reverently. "If the fish live and multiply, then so will the fishermen."

It was a nice thought, but I was hoping he wouldn't throw anything overboard that night, because I was awfully hungry.

He must have been reading my mind, because he took a sweetcake for himself and then handed his food bag over to me, saying, "Take as much as you like."

I took it all.

The moon was halfway across the sky by the time I finished eating. And, then, finally, the old man tossed his fishing line into the water.

We bobbed on the gentle sea, neither one of us talking.