Rosie Roo's Arc

Chapter 3 of 10

At dawn Rosie thanked Noella and stepped back into the marsh. The jar glowed in her arms. But the path had drowned in fog, and by the time she found dry ground, night was falling again. Cold water crept over her boots. She hugged the jar tight. If it spilled, or if the fog spoiled in the dark, her spore would die. She pulled a small toadstool from her pack. Its cap glowed pale blue. She held it high, and a ring of light spread over the reeds. It showed her three feet of path and no more. Rosie stepped carefully, one boot after the other, her eyes fixed on the mud. A blue-green flame darted past her face. It laughed. "This way, this way," it sang, bobbing left toward deeper water. Rosie almost turned. Then she remembered Noella's warning about false lights over the marsh. She stopped hard. The flame hissed and spun off into the dark. Her heart slammed. One more step and she'd have sunk to her chest. "You saw through it." The voice came soft, from the reeds. A small girl stood in the shallows, barefoot, her gown torn and hanging in green strips. A pink flower drooped in her black hair. Her eyes were wet, though she did not cry. "Most follow the wisp. Then they drown, and they weep here like me." Rosie held the toadstool between them. "I need to reach home before this jar spoils. Do you know the way?" "I am Lian. I know every path the marsh ever ate." She glanced at the glowing jar and her lip trembled. "I will lead you. But do a thing for me first. My reed grows by the old gnome cottage. It needs light to bloom, and I cannot hold your toadstool. Carry it there and let it shine on my reed a moment. Then I take you home." Rosie hesitated. The jar came first. But she could not cross the marsh blind, and the wisp would come again. "Show me the cottage," she said. Lian walked over the water like it was stone. Rosie followed her steps exactly, jar in one arm, light in the other. They reached a tiny cottage swallowed by vines. Beside its door stood a single bent reed. Rosie knelt and held the toadstool close. The reed straightened. A white bud opened, then glowed faintly, like a second small lamp. Lian pressed both hands to her mouth. For the first time she smiled. "Kept," she whispered. "You kept your word." She pointed past the cottage to a dark line of solid ground. "Follow that ridge. It runs straight to your door. Go quick. Your fog is still whole." Rosie ran the ridge, jar safe against her chest, and reached her cottage as the last light died. She set the jar on her table. Inside, the fog still swirled, alive. She had brought it home. But it was still only one filling. Tomorrow she must feed the spore and find fog that would last.