430 years ago
Little Brook Level N/A
It happened…
Uncle Falls had warned her, but he was always going on about things she could hardly understand. Her existence was simple. She found joy in singing and dancing among the rocks and shoals that had helped form her, anything else was needlessly complex. This did not mean she was mindless, it just meant she only spent time thinking about what was important. Like finding the smoothest stones, or racing leaves down the current.
Now his warning echoed over and over in her head,
“Careful little Brook” Uncle's roaring bass had come vibrating through the currents that had birthed her.
“Stray too far from the mountain and one day, you might find yourself unable to hear the song. The Land moves child, sometimes in ways we can scarcely predict.” He admonished as he watched her moving down her length and playing farther and farther down the banks of her father.
If only she had listened…
She had wandered down Father's shores, following the call of a lark until it alighted on a nearby hilltop. She had giggled in delight as it began a chittering argument with another male over the perch. She found herself endlessly fascinated by both the simple and the empowered creatures of the plane and could watch them for hours. This was not the first time she had followed some interested subject back to their home, and it has always turned out fine in the past. Her ability to seamlessly move between her physical form and her water manifestation had made her almost immune to any of the typical dangers near her home. It had just been another endless sky day in the shadow of the mountains that were her home.
Then as she watched the birds, the Deep Magic had washed over the Land like a wave, crashing through her form and leaving her disoriented. As she came back to full awareness, a distinct and novel silence settled over her soul... The song was gone. A keening wail of distress warbled up from her throat. The Land had moved, and the portion she was on had been called away, leaving a gaping hole in her core where her connection with her family had once dwelt.
If only she had stayed closer! She would have been kept whole and watched another change wash through the Land with her family. But she had strayed too far when the shift had come to balance out the push and pull of those who thought they could rule this place.
The deep roots that had always tied her close to her family, her place in the Land, felt as if they had been ripped from their soil and laid bare before the elements. Her sorrow intensified the pain as she looked back toward where the mighty river, her father, had once cut through the landscape. A bleak marsh now choked the horizon where the mountains once stood. They were gone, and she was alone. Her whole world had changed, and now she was adrift in a current she could not understand.
Day turned to night, and night back to day and the Little Brook wept great tears for the family and home she had lost. The calling of the bog toads and whine of the crickets only compounded the melodic despair of her cries, giving them a haunting gut-wrenching quality.
Very few trees survived the inhospitable marshland and the wide open night sky bore witness to the Little Brook's loss and her longing.
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430 years ago
Wisdom Level ???
The stars twinkled angrily down at her, demanding that she change course again.
“Just because you are slightly older, does not mean you get to order me around. I understand what you are asking, but I am on a very tight schedule!” She muttered harshly up at the night sky from the seat of her wagon. Her donkey cast a baleful eye back at her antics as he continued to trudge along.
A sudden shower of comets cut through the sky, all moving towards the newly arrived marsh.
“It’s all well and good for you up there! But some of us must live out our existence down here, and going that way will set me back weeks!” She almost shouted into the empty night.
The mule simply flicked its ears in annoyance as it continued to plod along the barely used cart path running along the outskirts of the bog.
The expansive sky above them slowly darkened as, one by one, the stars winked out. Leaving behind empty holes of blackness where galaxies once spun.
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“None of that now!” She huffed, relaxing the stubborn set of her shoulders, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
“Honestly, if people only knew how dramatic you all can get, I swear... But this is the last time! I have my own responsibilities to tend to, and they don't include your every whim.” She muttered darkly up at the bright starry night. With a click of her tongue and a slight tug on the reins, she guided her mule onto a path through the marsh that had not been there moments before. Still muttering darkly, her eyes took on a many-hued glow, and she peered out into the unremarkable distance, seeing things that no other could see.
She cocked her head, and her stare sharpened as she read through the pattern of the Under Weave like a familiar book.
“Hmmm, Now that is interesting…” She said, as her eyes returned to their normal deep brown. She then thoughtfully pulled out some legendary-grade wool and began to knit calmly with the reins laid in her lap. The mule placidly made its way through the marsh one plodding step at a time.
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2 weeks later
Little Brook
She didn't know how long it had been. But she did know at some point she had stopped her cries.
The tears had simply stopped coming.
She looked down again at her azure form, now almost completely transparent. She was suffering the fate that any of her kind would if they separated too long from moving water. The stagnant waters of the nearby marsh taunted her. The water in them called to her, but the composition might as well have been poison. She refused to give in to the whispered thought that she should just phase into her water manifestation and become one with the muck and mud before her, losing what was left of herself in the process.
“Come child, there is no use moping.” A voice called from the bottom of the hill. Little Brook whipped her head up to find an old cart being pulled by a mule and driven by a middle-aged woman in dark clothing.
No, that wasn't right... despite being almost all black, the voluminous robes she wore, shone faintly with a starry sky pattern. Little Brook watched in amazement as some of the stars formed a new constellation, and shot off out of sight on the robes. It was so delightfully magical and familiar that she couldn't keep herself from laughing, and the tinkling bell of her joy rang out over the marsh.
“Now now, don’t go showing off.” The woman frowned down at her clothing. But when she looked up, she wore a faint smile. Brook had always been taught to stay away from those not of the Land, but she was different. She wasn’t of the Land. Brook could tell that immediately, but something about the way she got off the wagon while taking care not to step on the thistle growing near the cart path, spoke of respect and knowledge deeper than most of her kind held.
Wait…That cart path hadn't been there earlier, had it?
The woman in dark starry clothing clucked in sympathy as she approached, noting the near insubstantiality of Little Brook, “You are in a poor state, aren’t you? I see why they called.” She said reaching the top of the hill and looking Little Brook up and down.
Just a few moments ago, Brook had been ready to fade away, but something about the sympathy grated on her wild nature and she rushed and babbled back at the woman.
“Yes, well no need to get upset. I have come to offer you a chance to return to your family.” She stated abruptly, pulling something long and woven from her robe.
Brook tinkled in shock at the woman’s words. There was a way home? Through the Land, she could feel her home and family, but they were so distant, that she couldn't even feel a direction from the faint tug on her core. And even if she could, without moving water, she would never survive long enough to make it to them anyway.
The woman seemed to have no trouble understanding her meaning and continued as if they were having a normal conversation,
“In your free form, you perhaps only have a day left before you fade completely. However, I can bind you to this piece of clothing, and halt your decay." She said slowly, letting the gravity of Little Brook's situation sink in before continuing,
"If you give up your form to be woven, you will be bound to serve whoever wears this. But I promise you two things. The first is that you will only serve worthy masters, and second, that one day you will find your way home… Do you accept?” She said, holding out the cloth for Little Brook to inspect.
She leaned closer to look over the fabric critically and upon closer inspection saw that it was humming with magical energy. She could even feel that it had been a gift of the Land, not taken by force. Brook looked up once more at the mysterious woman.
Considering her limited options, and her longing to see her home again, this would have to do. Besides, something about the stern, but careful woman instilled a deep trust in Little Brook. Looking into her eyes reminded Little Brook of the times her father had told her legends of great-grandfather Ocean. She wasn't one of the people, but she understood her place, and moved with the flow of the pattern, not against it. This was rarely true of those not of the Land.
Perhaps Brook should have listened to her Uncle, but she hadn’t and had to face the consequences. But deep in her core, she knew that this was where the flow of the pattern was taking her.
Still meeting the woman's eyes, Little Brook gave a firm and determined nod. To which the woman smiled back graciously before waving her hand in Little Brook's direction. She felt a tug, and then a draining sensation started to pull from her center. She looked down in wonder as the substance that made up her form dissolved and flowed like a tiny stream of water into the grayish fabric, dividing into thousands of tiny strands and integrating with the knit pattern, dyeing it a deep blue. Now alone, the woman gave another sadder nod to the scarf, laying still in her hands,
“Very sensible of you little one. You have honored me, and now I will honor your trust.” She said solemnly, before turning smartly around and tucking the scarf into her voluminous sleeves, heading back down the hill toward her cart.
“I have a friend in the Steppe who will know just what to do with you… Balaam! Stop eating that thistle at once! You know it gives you indigestion!” She snapped at the mule, who continued to munch happily on the interestingly textured flower.