Four-year old Chloe has just stopped her group at the banks of a river
and predicted the death of a fish nobody can see...
“What whitefish, Sweetie?”
“The one right there.” She was still pointing at the water. Her mother followed her finger to the water and squinted but couldn’t make out anything below the ripples of the river.
“How is the whitefish going to die, Chloe?” It was the wheezer. He’d walked up to where the girl and her mother stood on the bank. He pointed at the water. “Will another fish come and get it?”
Chloe reached out and took the man’s hand, still pointing, and lifted it up, pushing it as far as her reach allowed. “The sky will kill it.”
The man looked up and studied the sky for a while then turned his attention on Chloe’s mother. “Marlene, I’m just not sure. She feels intently, I know that. Still, it’s not just…what? What is it?”
Marlene’s eyes had grown wide and she stared at the sky. “Look, Tom.”
He looked up. It was an eagle, and it circled above the river.
Suddenly, it dove; and Tom gasped at the speed of the thing. In only a second or so, it was flying back upward, a whitefish in its talons.
He looked at Chloe. “You were right, she has the Sight.”