The moment he felt the faint, almost imperceptible weight of a dragonfly land on his face, he didn't stop to think, his body reacted before his mind could catch up.
With a sharp gasp and wide eyes, he threw himself to the ground, instincts flaring like wildfire, every nerve screaming for survival.
"Shit!" he spat, just as his face slammed into the cold, wet mud, the earth swallowing the sound with a heavy squelch.
He pulled his face out of the cold, sticky mud, sneezing hard as he tried to force out the clumps still lodged in his nose.
With both hands, he wiped at his face clumsily, smearing away the grime as best as he could. When he finally cleared enough to see, he tilted his head upward and blinked against the brightness.
The sun was already well into the sky. Somehow, he'd fallen asleep right there leaning on the tree and slept straight through the night without even realizing it.
"I slept off after all," he mumbled as he rose to his feet, dusting his knees.
He turned his head to glance back, heart skipping slightly as he looked for his bag. Relief settled over him when he saw it still lying there, untouched, just as he'd hoped.
With a quiet breath, he pushed himself up and began making his way through the damp soil, his feet sinking slightly with each step.
Reeds brushed against his legs as he trudged toward the riverbank, the sound of water growing clearer with every movement.
He needed to wash his face properly, maybe even get a drink, if the water looked clean enough to risk it.
He reached the edge of the river and crouched down carefully, mindful not to slip on the wet bank and fall in.
Dropping to his knees, he leaned forward and began splashing handfuls of cold water onto his face, again and again, until the mud was gone and his skin felt cleaner, if not exactly fresh.
As he paused, catching his breath, he stared down into the flowing water. The current was gentle here, clear enough that he could see the riverbed and the flicker of movement just above it. A fish swam past, gliding smoothly into view like it didn't even notice him.
His stomach tightened slightly at the sight. It wasn't hunger yet, but it would be soon. This was a chance he couldn't ignore.
Without hesitation, he thrust his hand into the water, fast and sharp. His fingers closed around the slick, wriggling body, and he yanked it out in one swift motion. Water splashed everywhere, and several other fish darted away in a silver blur of panic.
But he wasn't done. While they scattered, he dipped his hand in again, focused and quick. Miraculously, his fingers found another, and he pulled it out just before the rest vanished into the deeper current.
"Yes!" he exclaimed as he chuckled loudly, falling back down on the damp soil, not minding his clothes.
After squinting up at the blinding morning sun for a while, letting its warmth soak into his skin, he finally rose to his feet. With both fish gripped tightly in one hand, he made his way back to the tree where he'd slept, dropping them on the ground beside it with a soft thud.
He peeled off his muddy, soaked clothes and let them fall into a heap nearby. Then he crouched by his bag, unzipped it, and rummaged through until he found a fresh set—worn but dry.
Clutching the dirty clothes in one hand, he walked back toward the riverbank, wearing only his underwear now, the morning breeze cool against his damp skin.
Once there, he bent down near the edge and began scrubbing the clothes in the water, working out the grime as best as he could with nothing but his hands and determination. When they looked passably clean, he laid them out on a flat, sunlit patch of ground to dry.
Then, without wasting time, he stepped into the shallows and began washing himself, arms, chest, neck, legs, letting the cold water sting the sleep and mud off his skin. It wasn't pleasant, but it was necessary.
When he was done, he gathered the damp clothes and headed back to the tree, droplets still rolling down his body. He spread the wet garments across the lower branches to dry in the sun, then grabbed the clean ones from where he'd left them and pulled them on, not bothering to dry himself off. He didn't have a towel, and the sun would take care of the rest.
"Yes, that should do it," he murmured as the cool morning breeze touched his wet skin.
He tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath, letting the cool, fresh air fill his lungs. The breeze carried the clean scent of water and earth, crisp from the nearby river, and it moved gently around him, brushing against his damp skin like a quiet reassurance. For a moment, he just stood there, eyes closed, letting the stillness settle in.
Then he opened his eyes and glanced toward the river, now noticing the dragonflies that hovered right above it.
"Where dragonflies and minnows lie..." he hummed as he moved toward the edge of the river.
He glanced from close to the edge, careful enough not to fall in.
"A minnow..." he repeated, trying to recall what a minnow looked like.
Then his mind drifted to the part where his uncle explained what a typical minnow resembled.
"A minnow is a small fish, typically ranging from a few centimeters to about 10–15 cm in length, with a slender, elongated body, often silvery or grayish in color with a lighter belly and darker back."
"They have small, shiny scales and a forked tail. Minnows are commonly found in freshwater environments like rivers, lakes, and streams."
"Wait... does that mean I caught a minnow?!" He turned and glanced back at the fish that sat there beside the tree, then back at the fishes that swam close to the river.
"They're exactly alike!"