She screws up her face, feeling a little queasy. “Noooo... Let it go. Please.”
The old man nods. “I agree. When one has captured the beast with line and fly, it seems fairer does it not? The battle between man and beast. Yes, no? But this feels like a kind of betrayal. An abuse of trust.” He stoops, releasing the fish back into the water, where with a casual flick of the tail, it resumes its vigil in the current.
“Think of the story it could tell, Jenny, to its fellows, of its strange trip above the world of water, only to return.”
She laughs. “Fish don’t tell stories.”
“Everything tells a story, Jennifer.” He stands again, slowly, placing his feet carefully as he returns to his seat on the grassy hummock. “You should not dismiss something because it appears ordinary. Instead, ask yourself what it can say to you….”