Prisma Glitterdust's Arc

Chapter 4 of 9

Prisma woke before dawn with one question. How do you call kittens on purpose? The winged kittens had saved her lesson once. Without them, her students would slide off the muddy bench and go back to the reeds. She needed a way to draw them into the schoolroom whenever she wanted. She had no idea how. She carried her slug outside and watched the swamp. The kittens had come the first time on their own. They had chased each other in the light. She thought about what they liked. Small things. Slow things. Sweet things, maybe. She went to her kitchen and pulled out a tray of pale cakes topped with lavender. Old-life food. She set them on the schoolroom windowsill and waited. No kittens came. A beetle landed on the frosting. Prisma sighed. "That won't work." The voice was flat and low. Prisma turned. A huge troll stood in her doorway, so caked in mud that mushrooms grew from his back. He ducked to fit under the frame. He moved slow and careful, as if the mushrooms might fall. She had never met him. He looked at her tiara without surprise. "They don't eat cake," he said. "They eat gnats. Gnats come to still water." "Who are you?" Prisma asked. "Mossback. Looking for quiet water to sleep in. Your yard smelled dry." He sniffed. "It isn't." Prisma stepped closer. "You know these kittens?" "Everyone knows them. They follow the gnats. Gnats follow standing water." He said it like the most boring fact in the world. Then he turned to go. "Wait." Prisma's mind raced. Still water. Gnats. Kittens. If she made still water inside the schoolroom, the gnats would gather. The kittens would follow. She could call them whenever she liked. "I need still water," she said. "In here." Mossback looked past her into the muddy schoolroom. He was quiet a long moment. "I need still water too. Frogs ruined my last bog." He rolled his shoulders. "Dig a low spot. Line it with clay. Let it sit. No frogs, it stays quiet." They dug together that morning. Mossback scooped mud with his broad hands. Prisma packed the clay and shaped the edges. Her ball gown grew heavy with muck. She did not brush it off. By noon a shallow pool sat in the schoolroom corner. Still and dark. Her slug crept along its rim. By dusk gnats hovered over the water. Then came the flutter, like wet leaves in wind. Three winged kittens swept through the door. They dipped over the pool and chased the gnats in loops of color. Prisma laughed. She had done it. She could call them now, any day she chose. Her stillness lessons were safe. Mossback watched the kittens, then looked at the pool. "Good water," he said. He lay down beside it and shut his eyes. "I'm staying." Prisma looked at the huge muddy troll asleep in her schoolroom, mushrooms rising with each breath. Her students arrived at dawn.