Bang. Anthros jerked his head up. The gunshots pierced the air. The dead fish dropped from his grip. Silence arrested the port. All gazes turned toward the town snuggled between the cliffs. The salty breeze tingled his nose. With hands smudged with fish scales he rubbed his brow, attempting to hide the grief.

A firm hand touched his shoulder. He met the troubled gaze of his father. “They don’t rest at all. Round them all up like pigs, they do. Drag them to the square and before all eyes are murdered.”

“Hush,” muttered his father in a cold tone. “You’ll get yourself killed with such talk. What will I do then?”

Anthros reclaimed the fallen fish. “They don’t deserve it. To be buried in the waves. What humiliation.”

“It’s their way, the way of the Keepers.”

“It’s not our way.”

“Watch your tongue, the captain’s coming.”

Anthros turned to the captain, dodging through the ground of fishermen towards them.

He swiftly grabbed anything fish. His father sighed. The captain laid his hands on the board, standing between father and son. Anthros couldn’t look at him, his vision transfixed itself on the fish’s entrails.

“The Keepers say you lads can board the vessel for tomorrow’s catch. Don’t be late.” He peered at the youth’s hands. “If you keep shaking, you’ll have to work with the women.” He scoffed and marched away.

“Don’t—” Anthros’ father began.

The youth cut him off. “No need to warn me about him, we both know he’ll be the first to report us if he finds out.”

Anthros wished he had held his tongue when his father. The man had lived enough pains not to be remainders of what would happen if they were discovered. Anthros bit his lip, it would be worse if they discovered what he did every night. He glanced at his father’s weather beaten face, the man couldn’t face anymore grief but Anthros couldn’t stop…not when the earth cried out to him.

“What did the Captain want?” crowned an old seamen, shuffling toward them. All three gazed at the captain shouting orders to the youths carrying nets.

“Wardens say myself and Anthros can join the hunt tomorrow.”

The old seaman grinned. “That old geyser finally spoke with the governor? It’s been years since you went out. You'll be lucky now, fish caught by your own nets, more than the leftovers they toss you. You’ll make a fine penny, alright. Just don’t forget your old friend in the riches.”

“We’ll never forget you,” said Anthros.

The beating of drums interrupted the talk. The wanders passed the port, landed with artillery, mostly guns, and moved towards the city. The cart dragging behind them now empty but stained with blood.

Anthros and his father bowed their heads. The old seaman sniffed. “Poor wretches. They did nothing but believe.”

“A crime, according to the governor and his wardens. You think this will ever end?” said Anthros’ father.

“Not till every ounce of blood is spilled, not till they’ve taken you and me.”

“There has to be a dawn, it was promised.”

The three stared at the trail of blood left behind the wardens.

“Some one will have to save the poor wretches before then,” muttered the seaman before strutting toward the vessel. Anthros turned his gaze toward the west, to the distant cliff reaching to the horizon, the barren fields of gorse meeting his eye.

“Anthros, you’re coming?” His father nudged him. The young man shook his head.

“I’ll finish the last basket.” Athros wished he could block his ears from the grumbles from his father. Instead he pressed the bloodied knife into the belly of the fish.

Anthros covered the gutted fish with a towel and swung the basket over his shoulder. His bones creaked beneath the weight. He flinched at the smell of blood coming from his shirt as he stepped into the streets.

Night had fallen upon the city. Some Keepers were lighting the street lamps in the well-to-do area. The village of the fishermen lay in the blackness, a few lights illuminating the windows.

A Keeper passed by him. The jingle of metal sent a wave of alarm through Anthros. He reached his door, his knuckles pushed the door open. He was met with a wave of warmth. He stepped in. The low embers of the fire told him of the late hour. He placed the basket on the dirt floor and let the door close behind him.

“What kept you so late?” A female voice broke the silence.

Anthros jerked his head up. Zenna. He brushed the earth from his hands. “I was gutting fish.”

Zenna frowned. “They shot at least a dozen today. My friend was among them.” She sniffed and took his hand. “But you already know that.”

He turned gaze away. “I saw them drag them past.”

“And you buried them?” She moved away. “I thought you weren’t going to do that again. It’s so dangerous. You could get killed.”

“The only thing they did wrong was continuing to believe. They deserve proper respect. They die courageously, I don’t have the strength for that, but I can grant them a burial.”

“In the cover of night, for all Keepers to see? It’s unacceptable!”

Anthros moved toward the door. “It’s all I can do for them.”