She wouldn't know. She hadn't been here long enough to witness such an event. But Augustus swore up and down that it had really happened, and that it had happened more than once. And now there were fish everywhere in Ashfield, a city where fish was normally a rarity and delicacy; they weren't close to the ocean and there weren't any above-ground water sources within reasonable distance.
But people didn't want the fish. They were living in everyone's drinking water, apparently, making the water taste... well, fishy. Again, she wouldn't know. She hadn't ever tasted pre-fish water. Or if she had, she couldn't remember it. But the people of Ashfield were discontent with the situation, and so one of the city's leaders, Dentelle, was offering a bit of extra incentive to the people willing to catch the fishies and take care of them in whatever way they wished.
Augustus had wanted the fishies for meat, of course, and the fact that Dentelle was offering extra tokens was a delightful cheri on top. He was giddy that someone would pay him to fetch food. But then he mourned that, alas, he would not have the time to catch a bunch of fish. Surely such a task would take the better part of the day, and he had a shop to watch! She, on the other hand, was already finished with her chores: gathering the unfertilized Pidgey eggs, feeding the Pidgeys their breakfast, grooming the Pidgeys and checking them to make sure they seemed healthy.
So she had volunteered to catch the fish. Her first stop was actually the butcher that Augustus had suggested; she'd wanted to meet the person first, perhaps ask for some tips on how to catch the little... what were they called again? Ah, Wishiwashi. She'd arrived just after another had brought in a bag filled with some of the captured fish, and she'd smiled at her luck- two people to ask advice from! She'd certainly need all the help she could get, missing two limbs as she was and using a very flimsy tree branch to even get around the city in a somewhat respectable manner.
She'd thought she was lucky, yes, until she watched the butcher cut the tiny head off of the tiny, still-fighting-for-its-life fish.
She'd left very promptly, her throat filled with bile.
After dealing with her nausea and emotions, she'd asked directions to Dentelle's place, and upon arriving there, asked if there was anything else she could do to help, anything at all. Was there a community fish pond to transport them to? Could she just... catch them and keep them? She'd nearly had a break down in Dentelle's lab, blubbering about how she couldn't kill the poor fish. Luckily, Dentelle's matter-of-fact way of speaking kept her from losing it, and Dentelle quickly made her a counter offer: if she was willing to make the two-day (ish) long trek to the nearest rivers, at a place called Crying Plateau, she could take the Wishiwashi there.
A two-day trek through the forest sounded awful. But Dentelle was already piling supplies into an extra backpack and shoving it into her arms and then ushering her out of the lab.
And that was where she stood now, a backpack in her arms full of loaned supplies, a flimsy makeshift walking stick under her hand, and a feeling of trepidation in her chest.
This was fine. This was totally fine. She just had to take this one step at a time. Step one: find fish.
She awkwardly fumbled the backpack over the shoulder of her incomplete arm, and, using the wobbly, wiggly branch, hobble-hopped her way toward the little pond she had seen on her way to the lab. She could do this... couldn't she?