My torch began to fade before I reached Relay Point. I could still see the path, but the water below the transmitter had become a single black shape. On the far side of the inlet, a pale wake curved through the moonlight.
The lure in my pocket had a tiny luminous tip. I held it under the torch for a few seconds, then cast toward the wake. Its glow disappeared almost at once. I waited for the line to tighten and tried to remember whether the spare batteries were in the boat or on the kitchen table.
A message at moonrise
The pull came steadily, like somebody drawing a curtain. A bass turned near the surface, revealing a flank the colour of old silver. I followed it along the dock, one careful step at a time, until the line came clear of the pilings.
The fish slipped the hook at the ladder. The lure glowed faintly beneath my feet. I sat there until the torch finally died, with enough moonlight to find the way home and no need to pretend I had planned any of it.
A smaller circle of light can make you notice more.
