Cleo came into dock smoothly. Her family held a rather professionally crafted boathouse that sat on the back of Genkysou village’s rear barricades. Boats of other Clam divers had already been beached on the bone strewn beaches, their occupants already back inside to shade themselves from the heat of the midday sun. Cleo wanted to get back off the lake too, she felt she had earned herself a nice long rest under the awnings on the dock.

Her back stretched and flowed as she rowed through the clear aquamarine waters. The small boat coasted in to rest at the wooden poles that held up the boardwalks. She moors it, looping a long gourdplant twine rope up over the dock in a cleat. The strong, nubile girl, strained her well toned muscles as she grabbed hold of the Clam nets.

Cleo hoisted her catch out of the stern of her boat and heaved it to the wet dock’s wooden plank floor. The nets were heavy, full to the brim with her dangerous, but nutritious bounty.

It was a phenomenally warm day, and Cleo was beginning to feel exhausted. She wiped away the sweat for her forehead: A job well done, and now, she was feeling tired from a good days labour.

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