CHAPTER 7: WHEN IT RAINS
The morning sun stretched Eleanor's shadow across the riverbank, turning her small frame into a looming giant. In her hands, she gripped a rock nearly as big as her head. Her arms trembled from its weight, muscles straining to hold it steady above the fish that thrashed against the gravel shore.
The red scales flashed like scattered coins as it fought for life, bright yellow whiskers whipping about in desperate movements that sent pebbles skittering across the rocky beach. The basket trap lay beside her, water still dripping from its wooden slats, the slack pulley line coiled nearby like a sleeping snake.
"Eleanor?" Puck's voice chimed from somewhere behind her, uncertain.
She didn't turn.
Her attention remained fixed on the fish's glistening body, watching its gills work frantically in the thin film of water beneath it. The rock grew heavier with each passing heartbeat, her fingers aching around its rough edges.
The fish's tail slapped against the shore, spraying droplets that caught the early light. Its eye, black and gleaming, seemed to stare directly into hers. Eleanor's arms wavered, the shadow of the rock dancing across the fish's scales.
One swift motion would end it. Clean. Quick. Necessary. The empty ache in her stomach reminded her why they'd set the trap in the first place.
The fish kept struggling, its body arcing in desperate curves against the stones. Each movement sent tremors through Eleanor's arms, making the rock sway dangerously above its head. She felt frozen in the moment.
"This is your chance," Eleanor's voice cracked through the morning air. The rushing river behind her seemed to pause, waiting. "If you can understand me like Puck does, just... say something. Please."
Her arms burned from holding the rock. Sweat trickled down her neck despite the cool morning air. The fish thrashed again, sending another spray of water across her bare feet.
The constant thunder of the rapids filled the silence after her words. A bird screamed somewhere in the forest. The fish's tail slapped against the wet stones — once, twice.
But no words came.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat matching the desperate gasps of the fish's gills. She could feel Puck hovering nearby, his usual chatter absent. His pink glow had dimmed to almost nothing, casting no reflection on the water-slicked rocks.
"Last chance," Eleanor said, her voice harder now. The word 'chance' was nearly lost in the river's roar. "Make a sound. Any sound that shows you can understand me."
The fish continued its desperate dance against the shore. Its movements grew weaker, but still it fought. It remained silent.
Eleanor's shoulders ached. The rock seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. Water dripped steadily from the basket trap, each drop marking another moment of the fish's silence.
The morning breeze carried the scent of wet stone and desperation. Behind her, Puck's wings hummed at a pitch so low she could barely hear it over the rush of water — a sound she'd never heard from him before.
Her arms trembled. Not from the weight now, but from something deeper. Her knuckles whitened against the stone's surface, searching for certainty in the unyielding form of the large, red fish.
The morning breeze died. The river's roar seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of her own heartbeat and the fish's weakening struggle. Time stretched like Puck's silk threads, drawn out thin and fragile between one moment and the next.
Eleanor's grip tightened. Her shoulders tensed. The rock's shadow sharpened against the gravel as she shifted her stance.
The fish's eye caught the sun's light one last time as the rock began to fall.
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Eleanor licked the last traces of grease from her fingers, her brown face glowing in the firelight. Two more fish crackled over the flames on wooden stakes, their skin crisping golden-brown.
"I can't believe we did it!" She flopped onto her back, giggling at the stars. "Real food!"
"The way it flakes apart! Mmmm. Like tiny treasure pieces!" Puck zoomed in erratic circles above her head, his pink glow pulsing with each loop.
"And the crispy skin—" Eleanor sat up so fast she nearly knocked him from the air. "I love how it crackles and crunches."
"Like explosions in your mouth!" Puck landed on her knee, wings vibrating with excitement. "Better than Poppers!"
"Anything's better than berries." Eleanor reached out to turn the cooking fish, her movements loose and giddy. "Even my fingers taste amazing right now."
"Your face is all shiny." Puck bounced from knee to shoulder.
"Your glow is all wobbly." Eleanor poked at him playfully. "Like a dizzy firefly."
They dissolved into giggles, the sound mixing with the pop and hiss of cooking fish. The firelight painted their makeshift camp in warm gold, turning the simple meal into a feast fit for kings.
"We should name the fish," Puck declared, spinning in place.
"You can't name food!" But Eleanor was already laughing too hard to sound stern.
"Watch me! That one's Sir Sizzles, and that's Lady Crispy-fins."
"Stop!" Eleanor giggled, tears streaming down her cheeks. "The whole reason we're eating the fish is because they don't have names! Oh, my stomach hurts from laughing," she groaned, clutching her sides.
"Better than hurting from hunger!" Puck chimed, his glow brightening with each shared laugh.
The fire crackled merrily, sending sparks dancing into the night sky like tiny stars come to join their celebration.
"Remember when you tried to make a shovel?" Puck zoomed up from Eleanor's knee, his pink glow brightening. He mimed holding an imaginary bone-knife and chunk of wood, his tiny form hunched in concentration.
"Oh no, don't you dare—"
"Oops, too deep!" Puck's wings blurred as he recreated her attempts, wobbling dramatically with each pretend cut. "No wait, that's the wrong side!" He spun in circles, playing both Eleanor and the wayward shovel, shifting to a ridiculous soprano to imitate Eleanor once more. "Why does it look like a spoon?"
"It didn't look like a spoon!" Eleanor flopped back against the dirt with laughter.
"It did, if spoons were shaped like lumpy river rocks!" Puck's glow pulsed brighter with her mirth. He zipped over to a leaf and posed. "And then there was your first try at weaving...
"Help! The basket is eating me!" He tangled himself in the leaf, thrashing about while maintaining a deadpan expression.
"That's not—" Eleanor wheezed between laughs. "That's not what happened!"
"Oh really?" Puck untangled himself and darted to her shoulder. "Should I do your berry-picking dance next? 'Maybe if I stare at it hard enough, it'll tell me if it's poisonous!'" he mocked, bouncing from foot to foot, pantomiming a cautious approach towards a leaf on the ground beside him. His pink glow flickered like a strobe with each exaggerated step.
"At least I didn't try to fight my reflection in a puddle!" Eleanor shot back, wiping tears from her eyes.
Puck gasped in mock offense, then immediately launched into a recreation of that incident, buzzing at his own shadow and throwing tiny punches at nothing. His glow shifted rapidly between pink and yellow as he played both attacker and defender.
"Stop! I can't breathe!" Eleanor rolled onto her side, gasping with laughter.
"And then there was your first attempt at making rope!" Puck twirled mid-air, his pink glow illuminating brief glimpses of watching eyes — some round and bright, others slitted and curious.
"Hey, that rope worked!" Eleanor reached for the remaining fish, unaware of the gentle chittering from the undergrowth.
"For three whole seconds!"
"At least I didn't get stuck in my own silk trying to make a hammock," Eleanor countered, waving her fish for emphasis. The movement cast dancing shadows that concealed the careful approach of small, furry forms creeping closer to take in the scene.
"Remember when you tried to teach me to climb?" Puck swooped low, his glow reflecting off dozens of gentle eyes watching from the darkness. "Up, down, sideways — wait, how do humans work?"
Eleanor snorted, sending a spray of fish crumbs into the fire. The sparks rose up, briefly illuminating curious faces that ducked back into shadow — some furred, some scaled, all drawn to the infectious happiness radiating from the odd pair. Branches swayed without wind, carrying whispered conversations.
"So bright," murmured one voice, barely louder than falling leaves.
"Such joy," answered another, soft as moth wings.
Leaves rustled beyond the firelight's reach. Puck and Eleanor remained oblivious, feasting and laughing joyfully. Small shadows shifted between tree trunks, drawn by their sounds and the smell of cooking fish.
A soft chorus of tiny giggles echoed Puck's bell-like laughter, quickly hushed by older voices. Eleanor remained focused on her meal and Puck took another bite with a happy sigh.
Delicate paws and claws left silent impressions in the soft earth around their camp. Their hidden audience settled in to watch, sharing quiet observations about the strange human child who laughed like springtime and the tiny fairy who danced with starlight in his wings.
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The day started as most others had. The first change was the smell.
The morning breeze carried an unfamiliar metallic tang, sharp enough to make Eleanor's nose wrinkle as she knelt down at one of their basket weaving sites. In the beginning of making her crafts, she'd used to carry the supplies all the way back to camp to work. Recently she'd just begun working wherever the supplies were found in the forest, and carrying the finished crafts back to camp instead.
Something felt off about the weight of the air, like the heaviness before a storm, yet the sky remained clear. She shifted uncomfortably, preparing for a morning's work. She rolled her neck and glanced uneasily around, trying to focus.
"Did you hear any of those little black birds last night?" Eleanor arranged her tools by size, focusing on the familiar routine. "They usually wake me up with their singing."
"Maybe they're sleeping in?" Puck's glow shifted from pink to a sickly yellow as he hovered near her shoulder. His wings beat faster than usual, creating an anxious whine.
The forest's typical morning chatter had been replaced by sporadic, urgent calls, echoing warnings that made no sense. The message carried from talking creature to talking creature, rippling across the canopy in a chain of warnings.
"It comes! It comes! To roost, to nest! Guard the hatchlings! It comes on black wings! Protect the eggs! Protect the eggs!" A bird's cry cut through the whispers, followed by an echoing response from further away. Eleanor's hands fumbled with a half-finished basket, the weaving suddenly feeling wrong under her fingers.
"What?" She called out loudly.
Eleanor rubbed her fingertips together, trying to remove the strange waxy coating the bark left on her hands every time she used it. She gazed up towards the canopy above, trying to catch sight of the speeding bird, but the bird had already flown past, repeating its warning cry until it was lost from sight. The call was taken up by creatures all around them and carried further on, replicating out in ripples of whispers and shouts.
"Protect the eggs!" cried fat, green caterpillars hanging from the branches above.
"Protect the eggs!" moaned blue and green frog-like beasts, emerging from the mud with deep croaks.
"Protect the eggs!" howled the striped fire dogs with fluffy tails as they whisked over the ridge and beyond Eleanor's sight.
"Protect the eggs?" Puck murmured in confusion, looking to Eleanor for guidance. His normal playful loops had become sharp, defensive movements.
Eleanor shrugged helplessly.
They'd never heard this warning before and she had no idea what it meant.
"What do we protect if we haven't got any eggs?" Puck looked alarmed at the thought.
"Each other, Puck. We protect each other. Lets finish our chores quickly today."
"The air tastes funny." He landed on a nearby branch, antennae twitching. "Like metal, but not quite."
Eleanor's tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth, catching that same copper flavor. She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of it. The morning dew had left everything damp, but the moisture felt thick, almost oily against her skin.
"We should finish up here, then check the fish traps," she announced, voice too bright, too forced. The words hung in the dense air.
Warnings like this rang out through the forest sometimes. It had scared Eleanor badly the first time it happened, until she realized that listening to the 'Forest Bulletin' could give life-saving hints. Creatures often shared news of predators moving through the trees, or downed trees that blocked forest paths. The animals almost never spoke to Eleanor or Puck directly, but they were loud enough that their warning system was useful, all the same.
Eleanor also learned that what the birds feared didn't usually pose a threat to her or Puck. The food chain on this Forest World was strangely complicated. She was attempting to decode it all, but it didn't fit with what she'd learned of food chains on Earth.
On Earth, the biggest or strongest animal would eat all the weaker ones, and then those weaker ones would eat the even smaller, weaker ones, and so on and so forth. On the Forest World it didn't seem to work that way at all.
Some things matched up, like how the birds seemed to eat the bugs. But other things, like birds fearing the little white and blue squirrels or the electric yellow rabbits with bright red cheeks, made no sense to her.
This was the strangest warning she'd heard so far, and she didn't know what to make of it. Protect the eggs? What could it mean? More unsettling still was how it seemed to cross that invisible barrier that kept all the different types of creatures apart, as the warning echoed from bird to squirrel to cricket and onward, crossing all the unspoken divides.
Puck shifted nervously next to her. When nothing else followed in the tense quiet after the bird's passage, she slowly returned to their morning work. Routine might help shake their unease. She had to be brave for Puck, so she slowly sat back on her heels and resumed her weaving.
Shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should, reaching with dark fingers across their worksite. Eleanor felt eyes on her back but saw nothing when she turned. Even the leaves hung oddly still, as if holding their breath.
Puck's glow pulsed erratically as he tried to maintain his cheerful pink but kept slipping into warning yellows and unsettled purples.
"Maybe we could wait a bit? Just until—" He stopped, antennae rigid.
The silence pressed in, broken only by the soft whisper of the distant, insistent warning calls of birds they couldn't see.
She dropped the half finished weaving, abandoning it where it fell. The forest would reclaim it with ease and it was simple work to make another. She suddenly wanted the safety of their little log home.
Eleanor stumbled over a root she normally stepped around with ease. The path home felt wrong — stretched and twisted like a reflection in murky water. Wind started to whip through the canopy, sending leaves spiraling down in tight circles.
Puck's glow flickered between sickly yellow and noxious purple as he darted between trees. He'd given up trying to maintain his usual cheerful pink. His wings hummed at a higher pitch than normal, barely audible over the rising wind.
A fat raindrop splashed against Eleanor's cheek. She swiped it away with trembling fingers, quickening her pace. The forest had grown so dark she could barely make out the familiar markers they used to guide their way home.
"Just a little further." Her voice came out thin and reedy. Another drop hit her shoulder, then her arm. The metallic taste in the air grew stronger, coating her tongue.
"The birds aren't calling out anymore. I can't hear anyone, Eleanor." Puck swooped close to her ear, his glow casting strange shadows as he shifted between yellow and purple.
Eleanor's feet tangled in the underbrush. She caught herself against a tree trunk, bark scraping her palms. The wind picked up, howling through the branches overhead. More leaves rained down, sticking to her damp skin.
Their usual fifteen-minute walk stretched endlessly. Each landmark appeared distorted in the strange, stormy light. The old fallen log looked longer, its moss darker. The split rock seemed to lean at an impossible angle.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Eleanor's heart hammered against her ribs. She broke into a run, no longer trying to hide her fear. Puck's glow pulsed rapid yellow as he struggled to keep pace with her erratic movement through the darkening woods.
The rain began in earnest, heavy drops that carried that same metallic tang. They felt wrong against her skin, too thick, too warm. Eleanor ran faster, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
Their shelter was close.
Had to be just ahead.
But the forest had become a maze of shadows and unnerving silence, familiar paths twisted into stranger things by the approaching storm.
The fallen log that marked their home emerged from the gloom, its hollow cavity a welcome sight. Eleanor dove through the entrance, scraping her knee on the worn groove they'd carved as a doorstep. Puck zipped in behind her, his yellow glow illuminating their cozy space.
"Quick, the door!" Eleanor scrambled on her knees, unable to stand up in the confined space.
Their woven door flapped down to cover the entrance and they pinned it in place with wooden toggles they'd added sometime in their second week. The familiar action steadied Eleanor's shaking hands. Puck's threads had grown stronger over time, and the door sealed tight against the wind.
"Lets check our storm supplies!" Puck's glow shifted to a steadier purple as he darted to their supply corner.
Eleanor nodded, falling into their practiced routine. She grabbed the collection of hollow reeds they'd gathered, jamming them into the carefully placed holes along the log's sides. The makeshift ventilation system would keep fresh air flowing even if the storm lasted days.
"Water catchers?"
"Already out!" Puck's voice carried pride as his glow edged toward pink. "Set them up when I noticed the weird taste this morning."
Thunder boomed overhead, but inside their log, Eleanor felt the fear loosening its grip. She pulled their emergency pack from its shelf — dried berries and fish, spare reeds, and extra silk threads all neatly organized.
"We have enough for a few days, if we eat light," Eleanor murmured, settling onto their woven mat.
"We'll be fine! No storm lasts days." Puck landed on her knee, his glow a warm pink. "We've got backup plans for our backup plans."
The rain hammered against their roof, but the layers of bark and clay they'd carefully arranged held firm. No leaks. No gaps. Just the soft glow of Puck's light and the familiar smell of their home.
Eleanor reached for their collection of smooth stones — gathered during better weather for exactly this purpose. The stones still held warmth from the morning sun, and she arranged them in a circle around their sitting area.
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"Storm partners?" She held out her hand.
Puck settled into his favorite spot on her palm, wings finally still.
"If we must," he said, with a put upon air.
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The heavy rhythm of rain had lulled Eleanor into a fitful doze, until an unfamiliar sound jerked her awake — a soft gurgle beneath the thunder. Her muscles tensed as she recognized the noise. Water. Not falling from above, but sliding, seeping, trickling around them.
"Eleanor! Wake up! Wake up!"
Puck was trying to shake her shoulder, struggling against her dead weight. His glow revealed thin streams of water snaking between the roots that formed their floor.
Eleanor's throat closed. It was like something had paralyzed her.
Her limbs turned to stone, refusing to respond as the first cold droplets touched her skin. The metallic tang of the rain filled her nostrils, mixing with the earthier scent of wet soil as sounds of the storm raged outside.
"Eleanor!" Puck screamed. "The water's coming in! We need to leave, get up!" He darted around her head, his yellow light pulsing with increasing urgency.
Her chest barely moved with each shallow breath. The thunder crashed overhead, but it seemed distant compared to the quiet menace of water pooling around her feet. The careful weave of their mat began to float, edges curling in the growing puddle.
"Please, Eleanor!" Puck's wings hummed frantically as he pulled at her sleeve. "You have to get up!"
The water crept higher, soaking into her clothes. Eleanor's fingers dug into the damp earth beneath her, muscles locked in terror. Each heartbeat echoed in her ears, drowning out everything except the steady rise of water and Puck's desperate pleas.
His yellow glow reflected off the dark surface, creating dancing patterns that only heightened the surreal horror of the moment. The familiar safety of their shelter had transformed into a death trap, with water seeping in from all sides.
A fresh surge of water touching the back of her neck jolted Eleanor into motion.
In a flash she was moving.
She scrambled backward, crashing through their carefully woven door into the storm-ravaged forest. It was like stepping into the middle of a hurricane. Rain pelted her with bruising force. Lightning split the sky, illuminating a mass exodus of dark shapes rushing through the trees. The thunder that followed shook the ground beneath her.
Her sodden clothes clung to her skin as she stumbled forward. Another flash revealed creatures of all sizes fleeing uphill — some bounding on four legs, others slithering between roots, many more taking wing despite the fierce wind.
Through the chaos, a high-pitched cry pierced the air.
Eleanor froze, her feet rooted to the muddy ground. Lightning revealed a small figure trapped in flood debris. Its cotton-fluff body and the yellow flower upon its head were both snagged on broken branches, tiny green face contorted in fear as it struggled against the rising water.
Her hands clenched into fists, then relaxed, only to clench again. The creature's eyes met hers, wide with terror. Eleanor's legs refused to move.
Puck didn't hesitate.
He dove toward the trapped creature, pink light cutting through the darkness as he assessed the situation.
"Eleanor! Help me!"
Thunder crashed overhead. Rain beat against Eleanor's face in a torrent of icy pellets until she was almost blinded, barely able to watch Puck tug uselessly at the branches with his tiny form. The trapped creature's cries grew more desperate as water swirled around its body.
"I—I can't," Eleanor whispered, her voice lost in the storm. Her mother's words echoed in her mind. 'Water is patient. Water always wins.'
"You have to!" Puck's glow flared bright red with frustration. "It's just a baby!"
Another lightning flash illuminated the scene — the creature's trembling form, Puck's determined efforts, and the steadily rising water. Eleanor's feet remained frozen to the ground as nature's fury raged around them.
The roar of rushing water filled Eleanor's ears as she watched the trapped child struggle. Its cotton-like fluff had darkened with rain, weighing it down as debris-filled water surged around its tiny form. Each plaintive cry pierced through the storm's chaos, making Eleanor's stomach clench.
Her hands trembled as she took a half-step forward, then retreated. The muddy ground sucked at her feet while her heart hammered against her ribs. She could barely draw breath, each inhale sharp and shallow.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the churning water's surface. For a moment, Eleanor saw herself reflected in that dark expanse, small, terrified, and stuck. The thunder that followed vibrated through her bones.
"Eleanor!" Puck's bell-like voice rang clear above the water's roar. "I know you're scared, but you can do this!" His pink glow pulsed steadily through the rain, a beacon in the storm.
She shook her head, moisture flying from her soaked braids. "I can't—the water—"
"Yes, you can!" Puck darted close, his wings humming despite the downpour. "Remember how you ran instead of letting those men stuff me in that awful pokeball and take me away? You didn't even know me then, but you still helped save me."
The baby let out another cry, weaker this time. Its green face had gone pale, tiny limbs trembling with exhaustion.
Puck's glow intensified.
"I believe in you, Eleanor. I've seen your courage every single day."
Eleanor's fingers curled into fists. Her breath came faster, but something shifted in her chest. The water still terrified her, its dark surface promising depths that would swallow her whole. But Puck's unwavering faith cut through her fear like a knife, leaving behind a kernel of determination.
She took one step forward. Then another. The water wasn't patient anymore, it was waiting to be challenged.
Eleanor's hands moved with practiced efficiency as she unwound Puck's strongest silk from her waist. The rope they'd crafted for their fish traps would serve a new purpose. Her fingers traced the familiar braided pattern — three strands of silk twisted together, then three of those twisted again.
"We'll need an anchor point." She scanned the nearby trees, spotting a thick trunk with low branches. "Can you loop around that branch? The one that hangs over the water?"
"Like our pulley system?" Puck darted through the rain, trailing silk.
"Exactly." Eleanor tested the first length of rope, muscle memory from countless fishing setups guiding her movements. The wet bark bit into her palms as she wrapped the rope twice around the trunk, securing it with the knot she'd developed after many failed traps had taught her the importance of proper anchoring.
Puck wove between branches, his pink glow reflecting off the rain drops. "Threading complete. Want me to reinforce?"
"Double layer." Eleanor pulled the loose end, checking the tension. "Remember how the current grabbed our first basket? We can't risk that here."
Their practiced rhythm continued as Puck laid down additional silk strands while Eleanor quickly tied a slipknot in the end of the line. The rain hammered against leaves above, but their movements remained precise, each action building on lessons learned from weeks of trial and error.
"Puck," Eleanor called, testing the rope one final time. She tied the free end around her waist, the familiar motion calming her racing heart. "Puck, I need you as my eyes. Watch for—"
"Debris incoming, position change needed." Puck's warning came swift and clear, slipping in to that clipped tone he only used when they were working.
Eleanor adjusted her stance, feeling the rope's reassuring tension. Their fishing system had evolved through necessity and failure. Now it would serve to keep her alive in the rushing water.
"Ready?" Puck hovered at eye level, his glow steady and bright.
Eleanor gripped the rope, her fingers finding the familiar grooves in the braided silk. One breath. Two. She plunged into the flood waters.
The cold punched the breath out of her as the rope pulled taut around her waist, Puck's silk holding strong against the current. Each movement followed their practiced fishing routine — brace, step, adjust.
"Branch coming!" Puck's warning cut through the rain.
Eleanor ducked, letting the debris sweep past. The trapped baby's cries grew closer as she fought her way forward. Water pressed against her, already higher than her middle and quickly rising, the coldness of it cutting her like a knife to the chest. The rope's steady tension kept her grounded.
"Left three steps. Watch the undertow." Puck's voice guided her through the murk.
Her fingers brushed sodden cotton fluff. The baby creature whimpered, its tiny, yellow head trembling beneath her touch. Eleanor's hands moved with practiced efficiency, testing the branches that held it in a tangle of wet, cottony floss.
"Puck, need silk here." She pointed to where the debris had tangled.
He darted in, spinning a quick web that bound the broken branches together. Eleanor pulled, creating space for the baby to slip free. It tumbled into her arms with a frightened squeak.
"Got you." She tucked the small creature against her chest. Its cotton-like body was waterlogged and frigidly cold against her rapidly cooling skin.
A deep rumble shook the ground beneath the flood waters. Puck's glow flashed yellow.
"Eleanor, the hill!"
She turned, still holding the baby close. Through the rain, she saw masses of woodland residents streaming upward through the trees. Their urgent exodus painted a clear picture. They needed to get to higher ground.
"Puck, help pull us in!"
Puck flew to their anchor point, using his strange strength with his conjured threads to help guide the rope in. Eleanor backtracked through the flood, each step measured and deliberate. The baby shivered against her chest, its tiny hands gripping her shirt.
As soon as her feet touched solid ground, Eleanor tore the rope from her waist and ran. She followed the flow of fleeing creatures, letting their collective wisdom guide her path uphill. The baby remained tucked safely in her arms, its trembling slowly easing as they climbed higher above the rising water.
Eleanor's legs burned as she climbed up the rain-slicked mud. The pressing fear of slipping and then sliding backwards into the black water below gripped her heart like a vice. The baby whimpered against her chest as it was jostled, its sodden, fibrous body still trembling. Puck darted between the trees ahead, his pink glow guiding their path through the darkness.
Other creatures pressed close as they climbed — deer-like forms with strangely geometric antlers, furry bodies that scampered on all fours, even some that hopped on spring-like tails. None showed aggression, everyone united in their flight from the rising water.
A high-pitched call echoed through the trees. The baby in Eleanor's arms perked up, answering with a weak cry. Through the torrential rain, she spotted a group of cotton-fluff creatures huddled beneath a rocky overhang. Their green faces lit up at the sight of the baby.
The small one squirmed free from Eleanor's grip, floating towards the ground unsteadily to rejoin its family. They swarmed around it, checking for injuries and crooning soft words of relief and comfort as the baby began to cry in earnest. Eleanor watched them, her chest tight with emotions she couldn't name.
It continued to storm for the rest of the night, each hour bringing a new wave of creatures fleeing the floodwaters. Eventually the clouds lifted, little by little.
The rain slowed to a drizzle by the morning, and then just as sudden as the storm had begun, it stopped.
Sunlight pierced the clouds, casting long shadows through the trees. Eleanor's breath caught as the golden light revealed the full scope of destruction below. Their forest had vanished beneath a sea of brown water that stretched amidst the trees. Debris bobbed on the surface — branches, leaves, and fragments of the life she and Puck had built.
Her legs gave out. She sank to her knees in the mud, the weight of everything — the rescue, the fear, the loss — crashing over her at once. Tears mixed with the rain on her face as sobs wracked her body.
"It's all gone," she cried. "Everything we made."
Puck landed on her shoulder, his glow shifting to the deepest blue to match her mood.
"You saved that baby. You faced the water, Eleanor. You were so brave."
She curled forward, letting the tears flow freely. The cotton-fluff family huddled nearby, their soft words joining Puck's gentle presence as the first rays of dawn continued to break through the clouds above.
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The sun shone hotly in the clear blue sky, catching on ripples of murky water that stretched between the trees. A steady blanket of evaporating mist clung to the surface of the floodwaters below. Eleanor sat with her knees pulled tight against her chest, watching debris bob past their hillside refuge. Broken branches and remnants of plants drifted along, carried on currents that twisted through the drowned forest.
Puck perched nearby, his glow a subdued pink as he kept watch. His wings occasionally twitched, sending tiny droplets scattering from their delicate surface.
A splash drew their attention. A family of creatures that looked like Albstat picked their way through the shallows, their black-and-cream striped fur slicked down by the water. The parents moved with careful precision, testing each step before allowing their young to follow. Behind them, a larger creature that looked like their kin — sleek and deadly — shepherded more cubs across a makeshift bridge of fallen trees.
The cotton-fluff family with their tiny children that looked like bright, yellow flowers remained huddled under their rocky overhang, long after many other creatures began to leave the hill. Their bodies were uniquely unsuited to the muddy world below and they sheltered safely nearby, murmuring quiet goodbyes and well wishes to each family of creatures that departed before them.
Their hushed conversation carried over to Eleanor's ears, but she couldn't bring herself to listen or to care.
Water dripped from leaves overhead, each drop landing with a hollow plunk that punctuated the heavy silence around her. The sound mixed with the gentle lap of flood waters against tree trunks and the distant rushing of the overflowed river. Nature's rhythm continued, indifferent to Eleanor's loss.
Her clothes hung heavy and damp against her skin, but she barely noticed the discomfort. The weight in her chest felt far heavier than any physical sensation.
The morning wore on.
More creatures emerged from their shelters, navigating the changed landscape with cautious determination. Their quiet movements and careful progress painted a picture of life adapting, surviving, continuing forward despite the destruction the night had wrought.
Puck's glow shifted deeper into purple-blue, casting gentle shadows across her rocky vantage point. Eleanor drew her knees tighter against her chest, her chin tucked down and arms wrapped around herself like a shield. Her eyes remained fixed on some distant point, unseeing.
Below, a troop of purple-furred creatures swung through the canopy with practiced ease. Their long tails curled around branches as they moved, calling to each other in low voices about which branches were too dangerous to use after the raging storm. They passed bundles of fruit between them, sharing their findings as they traversed the flooded landscape. Their confidence stood in stark contrast to Eleanor's huddled form.
The water level had dropped by the width of two hands since sunrise. Leaves and debris that had been floating free now caught on exposed branches, marking the water's slow retreat like timestamps on the trees.
Puck drifted closer to Eleanor, his worried glow intensifying.
"The water's going down," he whispered, his bell-like voice barely carrying over the ambient sounds of dripping water.
Eleanor didn't respond. Her fingers dug deeper into her arms.
A rustling drew Puck's attention. One of the elder cotton-puff creatures had separated from its huddle. Its once-pristine fluff showed patches of grey, compressed by years of weather and wear. It moved with careful determination across their shared ledge, each step measured but certain.
The creature's approach caused Puck's glow to shift slightly. He hovered protectively near Eleanor's shoulder, watching as the elder settled itself nearby. Its weathered face held the quiet patience of one who had seen many floods come and go.
Water continued its steady drip from the leaves above, marking time in liquid heartbeats. The elder's presence seemed to fill their small space with a tangible sense of calm, even as Eleanor remained locked in her private world of sorrow and grief.
After a time it shifted closer, extending a weathered tendril toward Eleanor. Dried bits of fluff drifted down, catching the sunlight like tiny falling stars. Eleanor turned her head away, pressing her face against her knees.
"She's not trying to be rude," Puck's glow shifted to apologetic oranges as he drifted between them. His wings created gentle currents that scattered the falling fluff. "Its just… we lost our home in the flood."
The elder's eyes crinkled with understanding.
"All flood waters eventually recede." He had an ancient quality to his voice and his eyes were painfully wise as he gazed at her.
"Thank you," Puck bobbed in a small bow. "Maybe later, when things aren't so fresh, we could hear your stories of other floods?"
The elder drew back with dignified grace, his tendrils curling inward. The motion carried no judgment, only acceptance. Each step of his retreat was measured, purposeful, leaving small impressions in the rocky ground that filled with tiny pools of collected rainwater.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The water continued its slow descent, marking time through the afternoon. Debris caught in the trees showed its progress like tide marks on the shore. The cotton-puff family huddled together, their quiet songs carrying on the breeze, while Eleanor remained curled into herself, as still as the rocks beneath her.
Puck's glow settled into a steady purple-blue as he maintained his vigil, watching over the receding waters and his silent friend.
----------------------------------------
By late afternoon the water had dropped low enough for Eleanor to pick her way down to where their fallen-log home had been. Each step brought fresh waves of devastation into view.
Their home lay split open like a broken egg, one end completely torn away. Dark water stains marked how high the flood had reached inside what remained. Torn bits of their woven grass mats floated in muddy puddles. Eleanor's carefully crafted tools — her bone needles and knives, so painstakingly gathered and intricately carved. The thorn fish hooks and failed wood carvings. Wooden cooking stakes and the bow she used to start her fires. Gone. Carried away like they'd never existed.
She stood motionless, staring at the destruction. The clay they'd packed so carefully around the log's top had dissolved, leaving gaping holes where rain and river water had poured through. Their food stores, their winter preparations — all washed away.
Puck's glow shifted rapidly between purple-blue sorrow and sickly yellow anxiety as he darted around Eleanor's head.
"Maybe... maybe some of our things got caught in the branches downstream? We could look—"
"Stop." Eleanor's voice came out flat. Her hands hung limp at her sides.
"The log itself is still mostly here," Puck pressed on, his glow intensifying with desperate optimism. "We could rebuild the end part, make it even stronger?"
Eleanor turned away from the ruins, her shoulders hunched. "We can't stay here."
"What?" Puck's glow flickered in confusion.
"We need to find the humans." Her words fell like stones into the mud. "At least they have real buildings. Walls. Roofs."
"Eleanor, no!" Puck's light flared alarming red-tinged yellow. "The humans were hunting us! They're dangerous—"
"So is this!" Eleanor whirled to face him, gesturing at their destroyed home. Tears tracked down her mud-streaked face. "We almost died, Puck! Everything we worked for is gone!"
Her voice cracked on the last word. She sank to her knees in the mud, shoulders shaking. Around them, the forest dripped steadily, each sound another reminder of what the water had stolen.
"At least they'd keep us dry!" Eleanor swiped angrily at her tears. "And maybe they know where Dad is!"
"The men who hunted us are also hunting him!" Puck's glow shifted from anxious yellow to a rotten green. "They'll separate us, Eleanor. They'll—"
"Better separated than dead!" Her words echoed across the flooded forest. "I can't... I can't keep doing this. I need real shelter, real food—"
"We were doing fine!" Puck's light pulsed between red and purple. "We had food, we had—"
"Had! Everything's gone now!" Eleanor grabbed a sodden piece of their woven mat. "This isn't working. I need to find my Dad. He's the only one who can get me home."
"So that's it? " Puck's glow dimmed to a deep blue. "You're just giving up? You're choosing him over us?"
"He's my father! And unlike you, he actually existed before we met!" The moment the words left her mouth, Eleanor knew she'd gone too far.
Puck went completely still, his glow flickering between sickly yellow and the deepest blue she'd ever seen.
"At least I won't abandon you," he whispered.
Eleanor's chest tightened. Anger pushed her forward.
"No, you just appeared out of nowhere, with no memories, following me around like... like..." She saw the hurt in his dimming light but couldn't stop herself. "Like you're afraid I'll just leave you the second you stop looking! You don't trust me! You've never trusted me, stop lying!"
Puck's light guttered like a candle in wind, fading to an ashen gray she'd never seen before. His tiny form trembled, wings barely keeping him aloft.
Eleanor's hand flew to her mouth, regret replacing anger. "Puck, I didn't—"
He drifted backward, his usually bell-like voice barely a whisper.
"I stay because I love you."
Through the heavy silence between Eleanor and Puck, a rustling grew louder. The elder cotton-creature floated forward, supported by two younger members of his kind. Behind them, Albstat limped along with other forest dwellers — some of them those plantlike sorts they'd met at the washing spot, and still others of the insect variety, their undulating bodies forming a solemn procession.
"Peace, youngin's," Albstat shot them both worried looks, trundling forward with purpose. "We're all hurtin' something fierce. No need to add more grief on a day like this."
Eleanor looked down, chastised. Her thoughts felt jumbled and thick. Puck's tearful face was locked in her mind, his words ringing over and over. Because I love you.
She gulped, giving Albstat and the elder next to him a tired nod.
Albstat gave her an approving look, then gestured to the cotton-like creature next to him.
"We've had a long talk about it, me and old Brimson," Albstat said, gesturing to the elderly cotton creature. "And we've decided that you and Puck have earned the right for something better. We know ye lost it all, and we know it set ya back. We think we have a solution for ya."
Eleanor felt hollow inside.
She should probably respond, say something grateful, but all she wanted to do was crawl into her ruined log home and cry. Beside her, Puck seemed to rouse at Albstat's words. His color pulsed weekly with something like hope as he turned to face them both.
"Child of humans," Brimson's voice carried like windblown seeds. "We have witnessed your courage during the flood. And your pain now."
Eleanor wiped her mud-streaked face, too drained to respond.
"There is a place," he continued, "where the ancient ones still dwell. The Valley of Annwn, where the mists part to reveal crystal spires that touch the stars. Where the first trees still grow, their roots deeper than mountains."
"The Valley of Awe-noon?" Puck whispered, his glow flickering with the faintest hint of pink as the Elder continued.
"The Valley of Annwn is a sacred place, where even Pokemon fear to tread. It is protected by guardians older than time. Those who dwell there could teach you both, and you would be safe from all floods of the river or quakes of the earth below."
Brimson's cotton-fluff swayed in an unfelt breeze. He met both of their eyes before continuing.
"It comes at a terrible price. This sanctuary is as ancient as the stars themselves, and it is ruled by the law of the Ones Who Watch it. The journey there is treacherous and should you find the Valley, it will change you. Many who seek the Valley never return."
"There's not been a human in the Valley of Annwn in anyone's memory, not even Elder Sygrin, the Ninetales at the edge of the mountain," Albstat growled. "It's a big deal, youngin'."
"But," Brimson's voice softened, his eyes piercing her in a way that made her feel raw and exposed, "within the Valley lay all the comforts of the world around us, waiting to bless those who journey into its depths. For the pure of heart, the Valley provides. You will know no hunger, no fear, nor sorrow in its safe embrace. It is the promised paradise."
Eleanor looked at their ruined shelter, then at Puck's dim form. The weight of their argument hung between them like storm clouds.
"Why tell me about it?" she asked. She'd grown used to the distance all the creatures kept from each other, out here in the wilds.
"Because you chose to help us, despite your fear." Brimson drifted closer, his voice like dry paper. "The valley belongs to those who show such a spirit."
Puck's glow strengthened slightly, hope warring with hurt on his tiny face.
Albstat shuffled forward, his grizzled fur still damp from the flood. He cleared his throat with a rough growl.
"Listen, kid. I was wrong about you. Thought you were just another human, trampling through our woods without a care." He scratched behind his ear. "But you proved me wrong, ya know? Not many would've risked themselves for old Eldegoss' children in those waters."
"I'm sorry, I know what you're offering is special and important to you, but I can't go to wherever this Valley is. There's a house on the other side of the river," she pointed, "where my Dad will be looking for me." Eleanor wiped her eyes, looking between Albstat and Puck. "I need to be close by, so if he comes back—"
"We can help with that," Albstat nodded. "The Cottonee herd passes near there every few days. They'll keep watch, let us know if anyone shows up. Can even leave behind a message, iffin' you'd like us to."
"You'd do that?" Puck's glow brightened slightly.
"Least we can do." Albstat turned to Eleanor. "Write your message. We'll make sure it stays safe."
"You cannot mention the name of the Valley, child," Brimson cautioned. "Tell your father about the weald only. Should he come looking for you here, we will send someone to fetch you."
"I don't have any paper—" But a creature was hopping forward, floppy bunny ears covering its hands until it reached her feet. Stretching up, it held a notebook and a lead pencil.
Eleanor gasped.
The sight of something man-made was mesmerizing after weeks of only green and growing things around her. Her hands shook slightly as she took the pad and the pencil with a holy reverence, stroking the wrinkled surface of the paper before settling it over a knee.
The tension drained from Eleanor's back as the pencil's comforting scrape echoed through the hushed glade. Moments later she had a message written, which she handed back to the timid, brown bunny.
There was one last pressing matter, and she needed to do it in front of all these creatures who might have heard her earlier thoughtless words.
"Puck... I'm sorry. I was scared and angry, but I shouldn't have said those things. You're my best friend."
"I forgive you. I'm scared too." Puck's reply was as instant as it was sincere; he pardoned her with a grace that was humbling. Like forgiveness was a simple thing. Easy, just like that.
Her breath caught in her chest.
"The Valley path begins at the Three Sisters," Brimson interjected gently. "The ancient stones that mark where the mountain meets the forest. Follow the morning star until you reach them."
"We'll show you the way," one of the Eldegoss' older children offered. "At least as far as the foothills."
Eleanor stood straighter, frozen with indecision. Should they really do this? They'd already tried once to live in the woods and it was so hard.
Like a movie reel, memories of the past several weeks flashed in her mind, most accompanied by the bitter tang of defeat. Broken hands and calloused fingers, long nights bent struggling over bone tools with only Puck's pink light to see by, countless hours tossing under meager silk blankets, shivering and exposed to the elements that would seep through their flimsy curtain of a door. Hunger. Pain. Suffering.
Would it eventually kill her? Not swiftly like the river, but a slow death marked by seasons of wasting away?
Would Dad be able to find her if she traveled further from the house?
Her breath choked in her throat and her eyes burned as the worst question of all filled her mind: Would he even try?
Then, slowly, other memories started playing. Puck giggling and imitating her as she made gasping noises, having bitten into a fish that was still too hot from the fire. Puck laughing and dancing through the air as he demonstrated new and silly ways they could use his silk strands. Puck luring her away from feverish tasks, focused only on survival, to play games of skip rope and chase while they frolicked through the trees like the children they were. Puck. Puck.
Puck.
She turned to face him, tears spilling down her face.
Puck who, even after she'd said all those mean things just because he was there and she was upset, was still waiting faithfully for her to make a choice.
Puck, her partner.
She gulped, giving him a trembling smile and reached out a hand towards him. Puck flew into her embrace and they folded around each other, a pillar of light and safety beneath the watchful gaze of the weald residents.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Okay?" His voice shook with hope.
"Okay." She pulled back to meet his watery eyes, laughing through her tears. "I can go anywhere, Puck. As long as you're with me."