The night was cool and moonless, as it swallowed up the trees of Telasia woodlands. Limping along a path was an otter with a very deep wound on its arm, leaving a trail of crimson behind. The otter came into a clearing where a small fire was. She didn’t care what creatures were there, she knew she was dying from a loss of blood. She fell to the ground breathing heavily, and then two gentle paws carefully picked her up. The two gentle paws set her on a bed of leaves and soft moss. Her wound was covered with some more moss to stop the blood and bound tight to keep it in place. She opened her eyes to see another otter staring back at her with soft brown eyes filled with sorrow at the sight that he saw.

“I’m a story teller, of tales many seasons old that no beast but I could remember,” He said in a soft and caring voice. The wounded female otter just stared, too exhausted to even smile. “Here is a tale I think you would like. It starts off with a great otter clan. This story is a legend said to be true, but if it is I cannot say. It was on a cold winter’s day and the ground was covered with a thick layer of snow as well. The river was covered with ice as water flowed freely underneath. The leader of this clan was called Draga, or Dragon. Every clan leader for countless seasons had been named this. There were no stories or tales from the past that any beast could recall.” After he had said this, the female otter attempted to speak and could not. The storyteller gently put his paw on her shoulder as she closed her eyes.

“Sh… now. Save your energy for when you need it. Now where was I, oh yes. It was on the shoreline the ottermaid was walking along, enjoying the breeze and saw a shape washed up on the shore. The shape was brown and limp. She was too far away to see what it was for sure, but she worried. Her father, the clan leader had said never to approach an unknown beast. But she went to the creature. There was water washing around his foot paws, she felt for a heartbeat. There was one, faint though it was, the otter was alive. The young ottermaid had felt a connection with this creature. She picked him up when the unconscious otter in her paws made a faint noise. The otter was relatively heavy, but she held on tight. She went through the beach and then cut across trails came to her small home. It was small, but warm enough so her patient could recover. Draga, her father walked out and spotted her.

“Who and where did you find this, creature?” he yelled in a gruff, irritated voice while staring at her with very dark, brown eyes.

“I found him on the shore, I don’t know who he is!” she said in a bit of a scared and shaky.

“SHORELINE, uh. I told you never to approach an unknown creature!” Draga yelled angrily.

“Well, what about a dying one.” She said straining under the weight. She marched inside her home and rested the unconscious otter on her bed and covered him with a moss blanket.

After what seemed like the whole day, the otter on her bed made a small noise. The female otter had gotten some food. She put this aside now and felt her patient’s head; he had many cuts and bruises all over his body. His eyes opened slowly, he stared into at the ottermaid with a questioning look. He tried to sit up, but there was so much pain from his injuries. So, she stayed to care for him for 3 days without leaving her small home except for some food.

One thing that the ottermaid never knew was that Draga watched both of them. He never interfered but was dealing with the situation in his head. On these nights, his dreams were of fear for his daughter. He felt helpless and full of pain with his daughter at his back.

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Her patient did get better as time went on. After he mostly recovered, the ottermaid and her patient fell in love.

One day when the sun was low, Draga sent his captain for his daughter and her friend. When the captain reached her home, he swung the door open, and marched inside with a vacant expression on his face.

They were on the bed holding paws and smiling at each other. “Hey, you two, Draga wants to talk to you.” He said this in a stricter voice than usual.

“What does he want from us,” the female otter said, now clearly irritated.

“I don’t know Miss, just doin my orders.” The captain said trying to avoid her eyes. The 3 went to the clan leader, which he was pacing on the beach. He saw them coming, but he kept pacing watching the flowers coming from their buds and the melting snow.

“Sir, reporting back with ‘em.” The captain said aloud, clearly not wanting to be in this position.

“Right,” he started to open his mouth, but he didn’t know what to do. It was either risk losing his only daughter or let her go. He came to his decision and pointed at male otter, “YOU… come here.” He said, saddened by his decision. “Where did you come from?” Draga said trying not to sound angry.

“I don’t know sir,” he said aloud not afraid of anything. “All I remember is the sea on my fur and then my mind was wiped clean.

“Hmm. Do you think I’m a fool?”

“No, I remember a place I think. It was maybe Bluestone Abbey and a score of fighting hare’s, PLEASE. That’s all I can remember.” The male otter said on his knees in front of Draga.

“Hmph,” Draga looked from his angry daughter to her friend on his knees in front of him. “You are banished never to return here.”

As he said this his daughter got so angry, that she yelled, “You never let me be older than I am.” She marched up to her father and pulled her friend away. They went passed her home and didn’t stop until she was sure they were far away.

Draga had called after her, but it was no use. She was gone from his life, forever.

The ottermaids friend kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, but I should leave now. Come and meet me on the small island closest to the mouth of the river, and I’ll be there tonight.” He held her paws and looked into her eyes. “I am the son of an island clan.” At this he left, jumping into the river without a single splash.

The ottermaid knew what she had to do. Making her way back to her old home, she took one last glance around the decent sized home. She made her way to the bed, got to her knees and grabbed a sack from underneath the bed. She also took a blanket and some food from the tiny kitchen area. The final thing to be put in the sack was a flute that had been made from a single reed. Putting all of these things into the sack the ottermaid took a final glance at her small home before turning to face the shore. The ottermaid didn’t know what adventures and tragedy’s lie ahead on her path she was taking.

In making her decision an image of her father and others that had raised her came to mind. Turning away, she wiped away a single tear that was forcing her to stay. Conjuring her courage to put this aside, she went into the water and swam to the small island. Ripples followed in a lazy outward current as her paws dipped and rose steadily. She got to the island and walking over to her on the rocks was her friend, holding out his paw and smiling a soft warrior’s smile. It was as if this was a dream.

“And this is a legend that always makes me smile. I did not know that leader, but I had heard this from his great grandson whose name was Mersim.” The storyteller smiled at the injured otter, her eyes were open.

Faintly smiling, she took the storytellers paw, which was very soft and comforting. With her free paw, she unwrapped a small bundle bound to her chest. It was brown, and when she uncovered the bundle, an otterbabes head could be seen moving. He was barely a few weeks old. She put the storyteller’s paw on the babe’s tiny head and said only a few words.

“That’s nice, this is Loon,” she said patting the babes head gently a few times. The injured female otter died right there happy with her paw still on the babe’s head.

And this is the start of a tale about a storyteller that raised the babe to a strong, young otter. The young otter had grown up to be a vanquisher of evil, and protector of good creatures throughout the land.