Toby sat on the sea bank of Castanet down by Flute Field, a fishing rod in his hands and a small can of melon soda by his side; partially embedded in the sand to keep it upright. It was rather sunny out on this particular spring day - so his straw hat was on, and he found himself slowly growing a bit drowsy from the warmth of the sun's beams and the scent of Fugue Forest carried along the saltwater of the river.