Tyson and Logan drifted down to the gravel shore of the lake and shifted back to their human forms. This was where they always fished. Even though the lake was well stocked, they rarely caught anything. The father and son almost always talked or went walking around the shore instead of trying to catch fish.
Logan helped his father unpack the duffle bag and set up the chairs. They picked up their rod cases and sat down to get to work. Tyson opened the tackle box as Logan readied his fishing pole.
"What color of plastic worm do you want to drown," Tyson asked.
"What are my choices?" Logan questioned.
"We have more colors than your sister has paints."
"Neon green?"
"You got it," Tyson said as he picked up the bright green rubber worm and tossed it to his son. He threaded a yellow one o
