Evie Mistweaver's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Evie knelt by the spring and pressed her palm flat against the mud. The ground was still damp, but the water had dropped two handspans since yesterday. She could see the line where it used to reach, marked by a darker ring of soil that hadn't dried yet. She pulled the map from her pocket and unfolded it across her knee. The smudged ink stared back at her. Three weeks of folding and refolding had worn the paper thin at the creases. The spot was here. The trees were enough. The trader's warning about autumn floods meant nothing in summer, and she'd known that the whole time. The pool sat in a natural hollow, ringed with smooth stones she'd cleared herself over the past two days. Luminescent flowers had begun to bloom at the edges where the water still touched, their soft glow catching the last of the daylight. She'd built the thatched shelter just beyond the shade line, its roof woven tight against rain, a simple counter inside stocked with clay cups and dried fruit. The stone benches could be moved when the floods came. Everything could. She filled one cup from the spring and set it on the nearest bench. The water was clean and cold. Someone would drink it, or they wouldn't. She folded the map one last time and left it weighted under a stone beside the cup. The sanctuary was here now, and she was walking away before she could wait for someone to need it.