Day 9: Brook, pond or spring
Today
Groupoid gives us an insight into the effect our crew has on the local community.
The gossip had already announced them days ago. They were the talk of everyone with enough mind to communicate. It didn’t happen every day that humans ventured in this region, and bets had already been made on how long they would last. Puro was curious to see them in person, when they came to his little realm. He wanted to know who these people were that managed to convince the Swan to give a soul some overtime in the physical world.
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Finally they arrived and put up their tent nearby. Human faces. Like it was a only a few days ago, he recalls how ages ago humans had stood by his banks for the first time. They had looked a bit different then, and talked other languages than today. And Puro himself had been a different brook. But he was still amazed by the humans and their power to use and form the world they found themselves in to their liking.
He wished these humans luck in their fight against the evil Kade. More than once had it come near Puro and killed the ducks he so adored, when they nested in his reeds. He would try to give these people the cleanest water he could manage. Ever so slightly adjusting the currents, so the nastier bits some beasts had dumped upstream wouldn’t land in their canteens.
One of the humans placed a foreign magic around their campsite. As if by a magnet, Puro’s glance was pushed away from it. He could overcome the pressure without much trouble, but he was still intrigued by it. He would have to tell his sister about it, next time the rain allowed them to meet.
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Reynir dipped his head underwater and massaged his scalp. –
Wait. Was that giggling he heard? – He lifted his head ouf of the water. Nothing unusual. He continued washing his hair. – There it was again after a while.
Bursting laughter.“Tuuri, do you hear that?”
“Nah, nothing unusual. I just hear the babbling of the brook.”
Reynir finished washing his hair, ignoring the giggling, and let his hair dry by the campfire.
Puro loved hair. When it formed soft clouds around the heads of people and caused those intricate currents, going around and between the fine hairs. Neither sand nor plants came close to that, not to mention the water-repelling feathers of birds, which were
boring in terms of current. Oh, how he loved this! How he’d missed this!
He recalled how some years ago a light young woman and her sturdy companion bathed in him and made their camp at nearly the same spot as the group today. Two of the men here today even reminded him of her. He recalled how in an even earlier time he’d been the meeting place of the women in the nearby settlement, to wash their clothes and exchange gossip. There had always been nice currents they made (and juicy gossip), though the soap they’d used sometimes gave him indigestion.
Oh, tomorrow these people would go on again, and he would be back to moving gravel around and watching mayflies grow. He didn’t hate it, but Puro kinda missed the mammals. They were more fun to have around than the monsters they had turned into. He’d say something like “How do you do?” and the beasts would only answer screeching and screaming.
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Well, there they started packing up.
It was nice having you here, Puro thinks to himself.
Oh, and could you please remove the spell, while you’re at it? … Just a bit? … Smudge the marks? … No? … Are you really intending to curse that spot so no animal will have a look at it without a big reason to do so? Please tell me the rain will wash it away. … Well, at least it’ll be a little souvenir of their stay.Reynir came running back shortly after they left, cursing his forgetfulness under his breath. With his boots he dug up the sigil in a few places, to break its effect, then he ran back to the others. “Thank you! Bless you!” Puro tried to shout after him.
(For some reason the mages are mostly deaf to the spirit’s monologuing. And his behaviour may not fit into existing folklore.)
