Willow's Arc

Chapter 6 of 10

Willow carried her clay figures to the watchtower at dawn. She'd lined them up on the stone edge to show the swamp she meant no harm. But when she played her drum, the silver fish didn't rise. She played softer, then louder. Nothing came. Below, her clay rabbit tumbled into the dark water and sank. She decided to search deeper into the eastern channels. Maybe the silver fish had moved to a new pool. Cracked stepping stones crossed a wide gap ahead, their surfaces coated with bright green algae. Willow placed her foot on the first stone. It held. She stepped to the next one, then the next. The fourth stone shifted under her weight. Her arms flew out for balance. The drum slipped from her shoulder and splashed into the water below. She watched it sink into the dark mud, gone. Without her drum, she couldn't call to the creatures the way she'd practiced. She walked back toward the watchtower, her feet heavy. A graceful tree stood ahead with long, drooping branches that swayed in the morning breeze. Fireflies blinked among its leaves even though the sun was up. Willow sat beneath it and pressed her hands against her knees. She'd lost two clay figures and her drum in one morning. The swamp had seemed like it was teaching her, but maybe she'd gotten too confident. Maybe she wasn't ready yet. Near the base of the tree, something round caught her eye. A stone orb sat on top of an old stand covered in thick moss. Cracks ran through its surface, and parts had worn away with age. Someone had placed it here long ago, before the watchtower crumbled and the swamp grew wild. Willow touched the cold stone. Other people had tried to understand this place before her. They'd built things and waited and watched. Some of them had probably failed too. She looked back at the water where her drum had disappeared. She could make another drum. She could shape more clay figures. The silver fish might not trust her today, but the swamp wasn't going anywhere. Neither was she.