Heart of Clear Springs: I

A legend the hunters of Springvale pass mouth to mouth—how a spring spirit and a youth first met.

Under moonlight soft as water, a weeping youth made a wish to the clear spring.

A far-come spirit, lodging without heart in the spring, quietly listened to the silent wish.

Spirits of the spring hold no distant memory, no deep dream. They come from water's essence—descendants of faceless angels.

Thus, when the curious spirit rose from the spring and heard the youth's heart in his tears, she at once took interest in this younger, more fragile life.

The silent spirit stretched formless fingers and lightly touched the youth's brow and cheek—cool as night dew, soft as a lost blessing.

The youth woke to the strange touch, lifted his head, and met the spirit's eyes.

"Can you grant my wish?" the youth asked.

The spring spirit was startled and puzzled by the abrupt question, but she could not speak—only nodded gently.

The youth left, content.

He did not know the spring spirit was lonely. She had no companions or kin, and had lost most of her wisdom.

Only when spring water endlessly welled from the rock-cleft into the pool, watching the moon shattered by ripples, did she gradually gain the power to think, gradually learn to mimic broken words.

The curious spirit looked out on this world with pure love and ignorance, with childish spirit. She rejoiced for the fox and squirrel that stole berries, and grieved for clouds that hid the Milky Way.

Toward the youth of that night, a complex yet immature feeling flowed in her heart.

Lonely, with neither power nor intelligence, she could never grant his wish.

But she could share the wish—draw life from his troubles and share it with him.