Flicking the pearl white stickbait in turbulent water. Retrieved with steady turns between exposed rock and whirling eddies, anticipation mounting with each revolution.
Near total darkness as cloud covers the rising moon; surface erupting as the the assassin waits, and strikes, and commits to become prey, not predator.
Head shaking and violent run, quickly reduced to stubborn resistance. Beached by rolling wave to clear weed and boulder; glistening and silver flanked, gravity pressed.
Revived in languid pool and held in supportive cradle; strength returning, muscular tail propelling into the darkened depths. Elation and triumph subside: all too soon to becomes a far distant memory...