Harley brought her hands together above her head, cleared her thoughts, and dove into the water.
Immediately, and with good reason, she wished she was back on the ledge. She expected the cold, but the water was colder than she remembered and her body froze up from the shock. She fought to release her limbs.
Kick, kick!
The command got her legs moving, then she fought to move her hands out in front of her. Going back wasn’t an option. She needed to swim and she needed to do it now.
LET’S GO, LET’S GO. LET’S GO!
The trick worked. With her body cooperating, she swam down into the path of the current, the same way the rocks had been carried away.
She counted, One two—three four.
Kick.
Five six—seven eight.
Kick.
Nine ten—
The mind can’t focus when it’s very cold. It's called a brain freeze for a reason, it’s all-consuming. And as Harley’s body temperature fell, her counting stopped. Her kicking stopped too. She fought the shivering cold by clenching her jaw, but the cold was winning and her shivers were getting worse.
Suddenly, a deafening bloop reverberated through the water as a trillion air bubbles ascended rapidly to the surface. It was like a giant yawn, as if the rock itself had awakened from primordial slumber. The sound continued to grow louder as more air bubbles rose in a seemingly endless stream, before quieting down back to nothing, announcing the end to all who dared hear it in the first place.
Harley heard the sound as clear as could be. A peace washed over her, panic replaced with calm, tiny air bubbles tickling her face and feet. She was weightless in the water, almost buoyant, and the light from her phone was a metaphorical lighthouse in a dark and unknown sea.
Then something large caught her eye and she spun to see it clearly. A massive shape swam beneath her. It took form—fleshy pink color, its body long and scarred, with a pear shaped head and an open mouth to swallow her. It was impossible to be calm. It was time to scream.
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The air ejected from Harley’s lungs like afterburners on a jet engine. The gargantuan monster flinched upward, its open mouth missing her, but its wake propelled Harley somersaulting toward the surface.
Splash!
The monster breached the water with the force of a geyser. Harley did too, gasping, thrashing wildly, and in the chaos her phone fell out of her pocket as she flipped through the air. Then she was falling, descending, gravity pulled her back down, and the water welcomed her back to total darkness.
She closed her eyes and waited for death.
The current carried Harley past underwater flowstone and never-seen stalagmites, and into a hole like a tubular water slide. The flow moved fast, and as for Harley–she didn’t scream, nor did she fight it, because the whole time she was carried through the darkness, death was certain in her mind. The water continued its path and sought the exit, as nature commands it to do, and when it found its escape from the cave, the current carried Harley with it, and brought her to the surface.
Rushing water poured from the mountain like heavy rain from a downspout. It dispersed into a wide pool and quieted to a gentle roar as the flow slowed to a low velocity.
Feeling the air, Harley took a breath and opened her eyes to overwhelming sunlight. She muttered nonsense and tried to reclaim her sanity as her feet sank into a muddy riverbank. Her attempt to walk was spoiled by slick rocks and she fell over into the water.
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The silly sight humored the sun, its light shining brightly in a deep blue sky.
Harley tried walking again, her legs wobbly in the shallows, and when she fell for the second time, she decided to crawl through the thick mud and wild grass. Exhaustion had taken most of her strength but she managed to find solid land, eventually collapsing to her belly in a wet heap. She laid still to catch her breath.
The sun beamed brighter, bathing her in warmth. The water from the spring shimmered and glistened like diamonds on display. The peaceful scene at the spring included trees with bright green leaves, wonderful pink, purple, and yellow shrubbery, and a river that gently flowed and descended to a lower valley, away from the mountain. Magnificent white flowers sprouted from the hillside meadow as the music of miniature harps carried in the gentle wind.
“Oh my.”
“Is it dead?”
“Asleep, I think.”
Harley’s head was heavy and throbbing. She wasn’t moving but she was certainly not dead, nor was she sleeping. The air delighted her nose with the aroma of sugar and honey, and a hunger stirred in her stomach. She spread her fingers out wide and squeezed the soft mud.
“...ugh,” Harley groaned.
Gathering strength, she pushed against the mud, slowly lifting her head.
“Is someone there?” asked Harley.
She pushed her arms out further, the mud squelching as she lifted her body.
Did I imagine those voices? Am I insane?
She figured she had to be. Taylor would never believe her, Marcie—definitely not, Rushi—maybe. That’s why she liked Rushi. She always listened to the whole story before she made up her mind.
The bunny-tailed grass swayed in the wind as Harley sat back on her heels and raised her face to the sky. Her head throbbing, she closed her eyes into the sun. Her vision was a red blur of intense light. Warmth returned to her body as the sun beamed through her eyelids like light through a curtained window.
Harley’s energy was returning and she slid out of her denim jacket to inspect her arms. The bruises hurt to touch, their color matching the purple of her shirt, but at least they weren’t broken. Her hand hurt from the cut and she washed it in the water. It looked worse in the sunlight—the wound sat within bright red skin and the pain lingered as a dull throbbing. She washed her hand the best that she could in the spring water and then continued working to wash away the mud that stuck to her long hair.
“Did the wind carry you here?”
Harley froze.
Was that in my head? It felt real.
She searched for the speaker.
A green dragonfly with black wings lowered itself to her field of vision and it hovered an arms length away from her face. The scent of honey traveled with it and Harley felt nostalgic and odd. A dragonfly hovering at the water was not unusual, but it looked like there was something on top of it.
She squinted to discern details and leaned forward, her nose inches from the flying insect. A miniature woman, toylike and beautiful, rode in a saddle on the dragonfly’s back. She had curly golden hair and wore a white lily flower with a dewdrop crown.
“You can speak, yes? Why are you here?” asked the golden-haired dragonfly rider.
Harley’s astonishment switched to annoyance.
I don’t know why I’m here, or even where ‘here’ is! I wish I was anywhere but here!
“How should I know!” blurted out Harley. “I didn’t choose to be here, it just happened! My brothers were chasing a bird and the next thing I know, I’m by myself in an underground river and trying my best not to die! Do you have any idea how terrible it feels when your brothers are dead and you’re all alone and there’s nothing you can do about it?!”
Harley paused, staring blankly ahead. Her thoughts about James and Johan had existed prior to this moment. But that was only in her mind. As her ears heard the words spoken out loud, it all became very real and tears started to well in her eyes.
The golden-haired woman took in a breath and whispered the air back at Harley. The throbbing ache in Harley’s head disappeared and her stress faded away like wind clearing a stormy sky.
“Do not be troubled. You may be lost, but you are no longer alone,” said the golden-haired rider, speaking softly as her curly hair swirled in the wind. “You should come with us. Do your legs have the strength to walk?”
Harley nodded and ran her fingers through her wet hair. Two more dragonfly riders appeared and they hovered in formation near the first, and the three were patient with Harley as she fixed her hair, stood tall, and stretched out the aches and pains. Soon she was ready to go.
The four traveled together with the golden-haired rider leading the way. Away from the bunny-tail grass of the spring, they made their way across the hillside meadow filled with white flowers, and they went toward a polite grouping of trees. The walking was good. They moved with purpose, but not too fast, and Harley felt better. She picked a white flower from the ground and spun the stem between her finger tips. The flower petals twirled in the sun like a ballerina on a stage. The soft glittering of a harp carried in the wind and the four entered the grouping of trees.
“What is this place?” asked Harley.
“A place of many names,” replied the golden-haired rider. “The outsiders call it the fairy village. The river filth call it the mushroom grove. But its proper name is Auria. It is a splendid place and soon it will be the place you call home.”