"Fe fi fo fum," the Child puffed, prancing back and forth, fists swinging in the air.
"Watch out for the right!" The Prophet said.
"I'm watching, Prophet," the Child answered back, "But you're moving too fast."
The Prophet leaned to the left and the Child's fist hit the air.
"Keep your fists up, Child."
"They're up Prophet. I don't think I like this fisticuff game, cause I'm losing."
The Child swung and the force of it sprung backward almost hitting its face.
"Phew, this is hard work," the Child said.
"I know, Child, I know."
"Then why do people bully each other into fights?"
"Why are you learning fisticuffs?" The Prophet asked.
"Because the whale blew water on my lily pad when you disappeared."
"And what did you do?"
"You did nothing?"
"I only laughed cause it couldn't find anything to eat."
"You laughed, because the whale was hungry?"
"Well, Prophet, it was funny at the time."
"Did you think you were better off than the whale, Child?"
"Would the whale give you a ride, if the lily pad sank?"
"Of course, it would," answered the Child boldly. "I always ride on the whale's back."
"Yet, when the whale was hungry you laughed, and now, you're training your fists to do what?"
The Child looked out over the ocean and thought about the question. In the distant, the whale was combing the ocean for food. At odds with nature, the Child felt alone.
"Can you show me how to make peace with the whale?"