Four summers earlier
Four summers earlierRiva had been a revelation. It started out as a very ordinary kind of day. Devlin was engaged in trying to catch the family’s breakfast—fish. The task required him to be up before the glimmering of the Minor sun and, like most young men, he griped about this and about every other task that took him away from more hot-blooded pursuits. In reality, he enjoyed the rhythm and restfulness of it. Instead of using his cat or a spear to catch the fish, which would have left his prize b****y and shredded, he preferred to line-fish, relying solely on his human talents. This required skill and perseverance. He not only revelled in the discipline of it but the opportunity it gave him to be alone, to meditate and appreciate the wakening world around him.
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