Rosie Roo's Arc

Chapter 2 of 10

By morning the white thread had grown two fingers tall. But the mist from the bowl thinned by noon, and the tallest fairy's warning stayed with Rosie. She needed real fog from the deep marsh. She had tried once already. She had scooped fog into a cupped rag and run home, but the fog seeped through the cloth and vanished before she reached her door. Rosie sat at her table, staring at the empty rag, hunting for anything that could hold fog without leaking. She opened her grandmother's old almanac. She turned past pressed flowers and faded notes until one line stopped her. "Fog will not stay in cloth or clay. Only sealed glass keeps the marsh breath whole." Rosie remembered a delicate jar on her top shelf, ringed with strange glowing marks. She lifted it down and blew off the dust. When she breathed on the glass, the marks brightened. This could work. But she still had to cross the marsh and back, and the fog would fade during the long walk home. Rosie packed the jar and set out. The marsh swallowed the daylight. Cold mist curled around her boots. She waded to the water's edge, uncorked the jar, and swept it through the thickest fog. Pale threads spiraled inside and did not slip out. She jammed the lid tight. The fog stayed, swirling like caught smoke. But dusk came fast, and Rosie was too far from home. She would never make it before dark. Then she saw a tiny cottage half buried in vines, its roof sagging under moss. A candle burned in the round window. Rosie knocked. The door creaked open. A hunched old woman leaned on a gnarled staff. Runes on the wood pulsed with cold light. She squinted at Rosie, then at the glowing jar in her hands. "Shelter costs nothing here," the old woman said. "But I'm Noella, and answers cost two coins. You'll want one, girl. I can see it." She stepped aside and let Rosie in. Rosie set the jar down and dropped two coins in Noella's palm. "Will the fog stay alive till I get home?" Noella held the jar to the candle. The marks flared. "Sealed, it holds. But this jar keeps only what fits inside. One filling. One growing." She fixed Rosie with a hard look. "Your little mushroom will need feeding again after it drinks this. And you'll have no jar of fog left when it does." Rosie's stomach dropped. She had counted on one trip to save the spore. Now she understood. The jar solved today's problem and no more. She could carry the fog home. She could feed the spore once. But the spore would keep growing, and it would keep thirsting, and this single jar would not be enough. Rosie curled her fingers around the cool glass. The fog swirled inside, hers at last. She had her way to carry it. Now she needed a way to make it last.