Dalton gaped at something in the stream. "Did you see that trout? Where's my fishing pole when I need it?" He was leaning so far over she feared he might fall in headfirst. She grasped his arm and pulled him back. "You made that up," she laughed. "You didn't see a fish. Trout don't swim at night." "What makes you think that? They don't have a little house to go home to when the sun goes down, with a small woodstove and comfortable bed.
-Caroline Fyffe
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