By the riverbank.
Two fish were still flopping about.
Yangyang gazed at the fruits of her labor, then bounced over to me as if showing off a treasure. She swished her tail. "Mommy, Mommy, you can have the biggest fish. Your daughter is still a little kid. I can't eat that much."
I smiled indulgently. "You eat first, sweetie. Mommy isn't hungry yet. I'll eat later."
Yangyang tilted her head, seeming to ponder whether I really meant it.
I didn't give her the chance to think it over or refuse.
"Stay right here. Don't go wandering off on your own. I'm going to see what's up ahead." I left her with that and quickly disappeared into the tall grass.
Yangyang tilted her head even farther, looking more confused.
"Does Mommy really have something to do?"
She stared at the two fish on the ground, then finally picked up the smaller one.
As a true cat,
she loved the raw, fishy smell of uncooked fish.
It was the finest delicacy she could imagine.
Yangyang smacked the fish dead with one paw. Following the food chain's law of the jungle, she used a little spell to toss away its innards and scales. Just as she was about to eat it as-is, she suddenly remembered something her mother had told her before.
Her mother had told her more than once that although they were cats, they should still have human habits. If they went on eating raw flesh and drinking blood, what was the point of taking human form?
Yangyang forcibly suppressed her feline instincts.
After all,
she felt that even if she ate it raw, she wouldn't suffer from indigestion or diarrhea.
But she still cast a spell and cooked the fish in front of her.
Soon, the fish was roasted through.