Sean
It’s not a question, but Sandy answers anyway.
Though it’s dark, and in some places, the river is murky, Sandy and I have no difficulty navigating and exploring the water way, drifting downstream with the flowing current like dry leaves in a winter gale. Eventually, we round a river bend and with a vaulting leap, land in a cavernous and secret pool tucked into an unmapped niche of the Candlewood river basin she clearly knows well.
Pulling herself up onto the side of a broad flat stone where a trickle of the river drops over a two-foot waterfall feeding moving water into the pool, Sandy lounges in the reflected moonlight, half-in, half-out and waits for me to poke my head above the surface.
“Ready to leave the forest and become a water sprite?” She reaches over, her scaled han
