It wasn’t long before Chester spotted Chief Harold approaching them. He waved the chieftain over, putting a finger to his lips to signal silence.

  Chester whispered as Harold crouched beside them, “You’ve got to see this to believe it.”

  He pointed toward the river.

  Chief Harold squinted at the man standing knee-deep in the shallows, arms outstretched, singing a bizarre rhyme with utter sincerity. It took a moment to process what he was seeing.

  “Is he… singing to the fish?” the chieftain asked, his tone laced with disbelief. His lips twitched, and soon, both he and Chester were stifling chuckles. It wasn’t long before tears streamed down their faces.

  Willard, more composed, gestured to Jack and deadpanned,

  “Chester better hope he doesn’t catch one. If he does, Chester’s promised to serenade Rhonda and ask her to marry him.”

  Chief Harold’s laughter stopped, replaced by a sharp grimace.

  “Bold move, son,” he said, shooting Chester a sidelong glance before turning to Willard and rolling his eyes.

  Chester, undeterred, wiped his face and pointed again.

  “Wait for it. As soon as a fish comes close, he gets so excited. He starts hopping around and waving his hands like a madman. Says, ‘It worked! It worked!’ every time.” Chester dissolved into fresh laughter.

  True to form, Jack suddenly stopped singing, fist-pumping the air.

  "Yes! I’ve got you now!” he cried, holding both hands like he was about to cradle an invisible prize. Then he resumed singing, his tune shifting to coax the unimpressed fish into his grasp.

  Chester doubled over, struggling to breathe. The Chief and Willard exchanged concerned glances, hoping the man would fail. Rhonda’s potential reign of terror loomed heavily in their minds.

  Much to their relief, the fish darted away, leaving Jack splashing water in frustration.

  “Dammit! So close, I almost had that one!” he exclaimed.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Chester clutched his sides, his laughter threatening to shake loose a rib.

  The Chief’s attention shifted as something further up the bank caught his eye. He raised a gnarled green finger toward a cluster of bushes.

  “There,” he said, “in the bushes. He’s not alone.”

  Chester and Willard followed the Chief’s gaze. It took a moment to notice a pair of legs sticking out from behind the foliage, trembling and stamping in the dirt.

  The Chief’s grin widened.

  “Ah. It seems his companion finds this even more amusing than we do. If I’m not mistaken, she’s responsible for this spectacle.”

  Chester tilted his head.

  “So, what you’re saying is… he’s the fish, and she’s the fisherman? And this whole thing is like some allegory?”

  The Chief considered this, a twinkle in his eye as he appreciated the layered humor.

  “Metaphor,” Willard interjected, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

  The Chief and Chester turned to him, their expressions unified in mild annoyance.

  Willard shrugged, undeterred. “While it has allegorical elements and symbolism, I think it’s better classified as a metaphor.”

  Chester and the Chief exchanged a look of exasperation before turning back toward Jack. In perfect unison, they muttered, “Shut up, Willard.”

  As Kleo crouched behind the bushes, watching Jack sing to the river, her entire body shook with suppressed laughter. She bit her lip and pressed a hand to her mouth, trying desperately to muffle the sound, but the effort only made it worse.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her body convulsed so hard at one particularly enthusiastic verse that she felt a warm, mortifying trickle. Her laughter stopped short as she stared at the wet spot in horror. Then the laughter returned with renewed intensity, the situation's absurdity too much to contain.

  Gods, what is wrong with me? she thought, hiccuping with laughter as she clamped down every muscle to prevent further humiliation.

  Still, she knew it was time to pull herself together. The joke had gone far enough, and she couldn't let Jack's earnest efforts go to waste. He had thrown himself into this ridiculous task because he trusted her. And while the prank had done wonders for lifting her spirits, she knew she couldn't let it undermine his trust. They needed to strengthen trust, and the prank might put that at risk.

  Just a little fun, she reassured herself, something to take the edge off before things get serious.

  Finally calming, Kleo wiped the tears from her face and crawled backward through the brush, careful not to make a sound. She needed to catch some real fish before Jack started wondering why she hadn't returned with anything. She didn't want him to suspect the truth, not yet. The look on his face, the moment of realization, would be too much for her to handle right now.

  Kleo crouched by the water, focused on the task at hand. Jack's voice drifted faintly through the trees, still singing his little rhyme. A fond smile tugged at her lips. You're a good man, Jack. A little gullible... but a good man.

  She cast her line, the ripples spreading across the surface as she settled into the rhythm of fishing. Her thoughts turned inward, the laughter subsiding and replaced by a calm inner peace.

  Sensing they were about to have guests, she chanted an incantation that she knew would draw the fish to bait without fail. Some extra wouldn’t hurt. By the looks of it, Jack was making new friends.