It had been a long running joke among the predawn denizens of the city. The ones who outpaced the sun to rise early with the bakers. A peal of early morning laugh bubbled forth from the fish stalls as the fishmongers prepared for the arrival of the daily catch. Despite the city’s distance from the sea, their stalwart suppliers managed to speed their inventory to their humble market. In the Fishy Business stall, however, the rumors that inevitably circled in a tightknit industry found purchase on the lips of the three men allowing their muscle memory to carry them through the morning’s setup.

“You’re full of s**t,” Mark guffawed as he spoke.

“No, they’re, full of s**t,” Bryan countered. “I’m not the one who said a giant penguin pilfered all my fish. Probably let his stock go rotten.”

“You sure they weren’t joking? Sounds like a joke to me.” Jason muttered through the fog of a late night spent with his textbooks. “C’mon, they’re not going to wait around because we’re talking’ about penguins.” Despite the young man’s gruffness, there was still a laugh in his tired voice, an appreciation of the levity that brightened a repetitive routine.

As though summoned by their conversation, the awaited truck rolled to a stop, ready to unload.


Concealed by the shadows just beyond the view of the men, a pair of bright and eager eyes watched as the rumbling box waited to share its bounty. BERTRAM knew from unfortunate experience that the box’s inhabitants weren’t always eager to allow him to partake and so the giant penguin bounced impatiently from one foot to the other until they were safely in the distance, or distant enough that he would have warning should they choose to roll more treasures back.


As the men wearily arranged the masses of shining scales atop the flakes of ice that filled the boxes, an unseasonable chill sent a shiver through their bodies.
“Is that…ice?”

Bryan looked incredulously at the slick surface forming at their feet.

“What the he-”

The sudden blitz of a dark shape through the walkway cut short Mark’s disbelieving murmur as Jason’s feet flew out from under him.

“s**t!”

A cacophonous squawk pierced the night, resonating through the fish market’s sparsely populated stalls as a gargantuan shadow drew itself to its full height. The two men struggled to bring their fallen comrade to his feet, but found that their efforts came too late as the figure rocketed through a second time, sending fish boxes and their contents scattering across the floor with the three workers. Chests heaving with desperate breaths they clambered away from the icy path, seeking what shelter they could behind the counters before the figure reappeared.

Braying a celebration of his victory BERTRAM slid once more across the ice, flippers furiously shoveling fish into his joyous maw with each pass. The humans who so graciously provided this feast were of no interest to him and though he was at a loss as to why they huddled behind their barricade, that curiosity meant very little in the face of such riches. As enjoyable as starseeds were, they could never match the succulence or flavor these strange animals provided and he’d long since discovered that people were far more willing to part with them than with the gleaming objects that resided in their chests.

With a series of soft, satisfied honks, BERTRAM hauled his happy bulk upright to examine the hiders. A clacking of his beak served as his cheerful goodbye as he waddled into the night.