The midges were biting, even if the fish weren’t. Not that it mattered. The whole point of fishing, as far as Mal could see, was to have time to do it. Just sit. Quietly. Waiting. And if a man didn’t catch anything, well … it just got away, is all. Everyone knew about those fish. Too big. Vicious. Lots of teeth. That kinda thing.

He grinned. Yeah, he sure liked fishing.

The sun was dropping towards the Wraiths, the mountains that pretty much ringed this part of Shadow, and it would soon be time to head on back to the ranch. His Ma was cooking steak tonight, as a celebration, and he didn’t want to miss it. He felt mildly guilty that he hadn't been there to destring the beans or peel the potatoes, but she’d told him to go off and enjoy himself, seeing as his last day at school had ended midday.

Eighteen. A man, by any anybody’s standards. Except maybe his Ma’s. He’d always be Malcolm, her little boy. And truth was, he didn’t really mind all that much. Long as she kept it indoors and didn’t embarrass him.

He absently stroked the silver cross hanging around his neck. She’d given it to him on his birthday a couple of months back, telling him as she fastened the chain that it had belonged to her mother, and hers, and hers ... so far back it was said it came with the original settlers from Earth-that-was, although nobody knew for sure. He’d tried not to take it, saying it was hers, but she’d insisted. If her and his Pa had been blessed with a daughter, it would have gone to her, but as Malcolm was an only child ... She swatted his hands away when he tried to take it off.

Mal sighed. A man. That’s what he was. With the summer stretched out ahead of him, looking forward to working the cattle, learning the business from the ground up, until he’d be able to take over one day. But for now, he was content just to sit quietly and wait for something else to bite.

“Mal!”

Except he wasn’t going to be able to sit quietly. He looked over towards the road, seeing Dugan and Kyle waving