Southbend

1. Southbend

"And exactly how far out did you say you wanted to trek today?" I asked, huffing out air and smoke. I did not pack enough lemon cakes or dragonweed for this.

"I feel, once again, I have been gulled,' I said.

"Oh please, gulled? You'll be fine. It's just around this bend."

Hah. Just around this bend? This "bend" was laid bare, with jagged rocks that climbed up the side of a mountain. Okay, maybe mountain was a bit extreme—ridge, the side of a ridge. Still.

We were clambering over jagged rocks, clinging to a threadbare rope on one side, and a 30-foot drop into the Hornewood River on our other.

"It? What's it?" If he had heard me, Amand gave no indication.

We were about halfway up the "bend" when I started to hear it. Soft singing hiding inside the crashing voice of the river as it rushed over a ledge that remained out of my sight. The singing was that of a hundred small yet ethereal voices, an intangible yet dazzling choir. I paused at my place along the ledge, listening. When I looked up, Amand was beckoning to me silently at the top of the ridge. I nodded and climbed quietly up the rest of the jagged path, clinging onto the rope.

Once I arrived at the top, I froze. The singing was louder now and I could make out more of the soft, heavenly voices. The sound rang out from the waterfall in front of us which mean it had to be the Pura—spirits of the water that moved through these lands. Not only that, you could see the light of the pool below us dancing in response. At first, I thought I was seeing things, maybe the music had entranced me, but no. Aura spirits were there too, dancing in response to the choir of Pura whose voices were somehow made louder by the rushing water.

"Wow," I said, out of breath—not because of the climb, but because of the shear, delicate beauty of what I was seeing, "I may whisper to the trees but sometimes I forget that the whole of the forest can talk" I said, "It's beautiful".

"You've never seen the Pura and Aura dance together?" Amand said, surprised, still staring straight down at the water beneath us.

"You know I spend all my time talking to the trees" I laughed, "besides, you know that water isn't my thing." After my brother's accident it was hard for any of us to spend much time along the river, despite it braiding and burbling softly all through the village. If my father knew I was out here on the ridge with Amand and still had his strength of years past, I'd have been properly disciplined.

We found somewhere level to sit where we could watch the spirits dance and sing to each other in soft harmony. Light tiptoed across the surface of the water and tickled to rocks beneath while the water hummed a sdelicate melody in return. We sat and watched the rainbow of lights until the sun began to tuck itself behind the trees, a sure sign we should be returning to Southbend.

"Ready to go?" I asked "I am not missing Solstice."

Summer was coming to an end and you know what that means—mead. Mead and dancing and as much grub as you could stuff in your face.

"Yes ma'am. I am in serious need of some Longfoot mead." We both chuckled as we got up and climbed carefully back down the cliffside path in the evening light.

*

Amand politely dropped my off at my door in Mosscreek, promising to return once he had changed from our earlier adventure. Escorting me to the Fall Solstice? No one would have guessed a year ago.

Amand and I had been best friends growing up. Running around the river, collecting turtles and insects, much to our parents' collective dismay. Then after Baudry, there was no longer any playing or merriment. Let alone on the river. Theo, Tarryn, and I were stuck behind closed doors, not daring to disobey our father during his grief to ask if we could run to town to get food we so desperately needed and certainly not to ask to go and play outside.