Wynn awoke to being gently shaken.

"Wynn it is time to go," Arne spoke.

He had overslept. This was sometimes considered to be one of the worst crimes in the camp. Arne was usually a bit more patient than the team that left early to cut timber. Some tasks in the day were more efficient when the heat was not yet blistering.

Wynn stumbled out of his cot and briskly reported, "I am coming. Don't wait for me."

"I have already been waiting," Arne chuckled as he replied.

Arne had a short beard and was built sturdy. His square shoulders displayed the years of logging. He wore a loose cotton garb that would be warm enough for the brisk morning, but cool enough to stand in the sun for hours on end. His hands were gloved with a soft leather that had been worked and oiled. Wynn knew that under these gloves, his hands would have the Source Lines that daily magic users would acquire.

Wynn wondered why someone would want to cover up their ability. The Order of Ordene would never wear gloves. Wynn had never met a "Green", as the other orders would call them, that did not want to demonstrate their Promise at any given chance. Because they were the Peacekeepers and ruling Order, followers of Ordene often displayed their hands very prominently. They had a slight influence over feelings. It was rumored that they could cause a raging barbarian to be placid and forgiving.

Wynn did not yet have any Source Lines on his hands. That would be something that would occur when he made his Promise at the Source Tree itself. That event itself was a constant worry to him.

Arne caught him frowning and asked, "You seem a bit troubled there?"

Feeling a bit shocked that his thoughts had been so clearly written on his face, Wynn quickly replied "No. Just not quite awake yet."

"Well let's get going then," said Arne.

They both left the camp following the path that led down to the river. The smells of bacon and wood cakes wafted in the air. Wynn's mouth watered a bit and he instantly regretted not waking up early enough for the camp's morning meal. He learned a long time ago that it was futile to expect any leftover bacon from breakfast.

After following the trail through a denser patch of trees, the river came into view. This was the parent to the small stream where the trout lived peacefully—at least when Wynn was fishing it. The river was wide, but deep enough to allow a current strong enough to carry logs downstream. It was rumored that the original logging company had employed members of Tera to carve channels in the riverbed. This feat would have been considered heroic considering the amount of control and power that would have been required. Especially when that magic would be directly opposing water itself.

The logs generally would float down the river without interference. Careful control of the water was used to remove the smaller log jams before they got out of control. Tangles of river weed or smaller branches would sometimes cause the timber to entangle.

There was a small ridge overlooking the river, not a great height or sheer drop but enough of a rise to give a clear view of the river. When they arrived at the top of the ridge, Wynn sat on the edge as he usually did. Often Arne would demonstrate and attempt to talk through the control over the water.

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"Don't get comfortable. You are going to go first, " Arne said.

"Every time I attempt this first, I end up making a bigger mess than we started with, " Wynn protested.

"Nah. I think that you will be just fine today. C'mon. Give it a go." Arne had a gentle smile and waved his hands encouragingly.

Wynn sighed and got up. The river already had a few blockages. They were only about ten paces from the river and the river was about twenty paces across. He stood with his feet balanced about his shoulder width apart. This part he knew. He threw his arms out and attempted to coax the essence of water.

This was Gulf's promise. All life begins with water and lack of it leads towards the end. Wynn closed his eyes. This form of meditation was not unknown to him.

There it was. A gentle whisper. He could hear and feel his life water running through his body. There was a faint humming within his mind. He tried to will his mind to focus towards a louder sound. A roaring explosion of sound overcame his senses. An immense weight pushed against his entire being. He heaved his entire being against it attempting to control it.

It pushed back. Harder than it ever had before. Wynn flew back, arms flailing, and landed in the scrubby bushes.

"Well at least you have a connection to it, " Arne said extending his hand.

Wynn took the firm grip and lifted himself from the ground.

"You can't fight it, " Arne said. "You have to embrace the flow of the river. Though I admit that sounds a bit too poetic to be true. Here I will show you."

Wynn quietly observed a look of determination on Arne's face. Arne took up a similar stance balancing his weight. Wynn had watched this countless times before, he often wondered why Arne continued to instruct him.

With hands extended, Arne began to weave. Wynn wished that he could see and feel what was going on. He sensed that there was something deeper here. Something that he hadn't quite found yet. There were no physical signs that anything was happening. Watching some of the closer log jams, Wynn waited expectantly. There, it had begun. A fervent ripple in the water shot straight for the log jam. This current broke the logs away from the riverbank and got them moving again. They were still a bit tangled up and would probably cause issues downstream if they were not separated. That feat alone was impressive to Wynn but he knew there was more.

Two serpentine strands of water rose near the logs. Bright scales and fins made of water frolicked in the current. The two serpents coiled around each of the logs and separated the mass. The serpents returned to their crystal clear abode in the stream. This was more than practical magic, this was clearly control over a great power.

Wynn waited until he could tell Arne was finished and asked, "How do you not get lost in the current?"

"I think that I do get lost. It has become home to me, " Arne replied. "There are times though that I do not feel like I belong. Though I believe that is natural in a way too."

Wynn pondered this for a moment. "I think I am ready to try again, " he said.

Wynn performed the stance and got his hands ready. There was the whisper. It was always there. Almost like the quiet murmur of a spring escaping the recesses of the ground. He could hear and feel the river. The roaring approached and the river hit him. He fought for a second, and then let go. Then he saw it.

Sapphire beams and tendrils wrapped around him and extended to the river. They pulled and pulled as he swam through the feelings. Looking down at his hands he could see Source lines extended from them. He attempted to focus his attention on the river. Every move made him feel sluggish as if he was wading through chest-deep water. He could see the log jams. He extended his hands towards them trying to push them. The cool resistance of water washed over his hands. The tendrils wrapped around him reached out and pushed the log jam into the larger flow.

Then it hit him. Wynn felt his heart suddenly seize. Time if it was a personage watching him, suddenly vanished. The roaring of the river changed from a roar to a high-pitched whine. The tendrils surrounding him changed from the deep crystalline blue to an opaque and shadowy black. Wynn looked towards the river. It was gone. A barren rusty riverbed was left behind. Within it were the desiccated remains and skeletons of fish. A foul stink overpowered the air and Wynn heaved whatever was in his stomach down the ridge. Wynn felt the air become uncomfortably thin and then passed out. His last fading vision was a look of awe and a trace of terror on the face of Arne.