Fairy Tales: Bowman of Wellwood - 3

Rischa laughed as she ran after her friend Nanya, her brown hair flying behind her.  “Hey, give me back that acorn cap!  I found it!” she called.  Their other friend Ara ran up alongside Rischa.  The girls chased Nanya around the base of the pine tree where they all lived.  They had to narrowly dart to the side when a man walked towards the trunk, his arms full of pine needles.

“Oops!  Sorry mister,” Ara exclaimed when she very nearly ran into the man.  Rischa giggled as Ara’s wings flared out slightly to help her regain her balance.  Ara’s wings were no bigger than Rischa’s own dainty little wings.  Neither of them could fly very far.

Nanya, however, had gained on them.  She glanced behind, grinning when she saw the distance between herself and her friends.  She opened her wings as she ran, pouring on as much speed as she could manage.  Rischa and Ara both gasped and followed suit.  Then, with a frantic flap of her wings, Nanya leapt into the air, struggling to gain her balance and keep flying.  Rischa moved aside to give Ara room.

Ara also took to the air, getting her balance much quicker.  She flew towards Nanya, and Rischa grinned triumphantly, still running along the ground.  She didn’t think she’d be able to catch them in the air.  She was nowhere near as skilled at flying as her cousin Bowman.  Still, it looked like she wouldn’t need to.  Ara was about to catch up, and Nanya was already faltering.

Without help, the younger kids could really only accomplish short bursts of flight.  Rischa practiced with her mother every day, but her wings were still simply too small to carry even her small weight.  But the fact provided an advantage for once, as her friends glided carefully to the ground.  Ara landed on her feet, springing up and down on the bed of pine needles.  Nanya, however, rolled, coming to a stop on her back, breathing heavily.

Rischa ran up and knelt beside her, triumphantly taking the perfectly round acorn cap out of Nanya’s weak grip.  Still, her friend looked quite winded.  “Are you okay, Nanya?” Rischa asked, tilting her head.  She could see the tips of her friend’s green wings quivering from their exertion.

“I’m okay, Rischa,” the girl replied, sitting up and shaking her dark brown bangs out of her face.

Ara was also breathing pretty heavily, even though she was the oldest of them and thus the most practiced.  “Maybe we should get some water, huh?” she suggested, throwing a green braid over her shoulder.  Rischa could hear the hopeful note in her voice, wanting the others to agree so that she could quench her thirst.

Rischa stood and offered a hand to Nanya, helping her friend hop to her feet.  “Let’s go to the Well!” Rischa chirped.

The three of them agreed to the plan easily, and started in the direction of the rosebush.  Rischa could already taste the sweet, pure water of the Well.  It always made her feel rejuvenated and refreshed, especially after running around as much as she and her friends had just done.

They talked happily as they walked, waving to some other girls their age as they passed them under the shade of the rosebush.  Rischa saw that the others were gathering fallen flower petals, and told herself that she would need to come back later for some of her own.  She could certainly fashion something for her doll out of the fresh pink petals, and the acorn cap she had won from Nanya would make a great addition.  She couldn’t wait to show her mama what she’d found.

When they reached the sunny clearing on the other side of the arch, the trio of young girls turned their faces upwards, relishing the warm feeling of the sun’s rays on their skin.  They let their small wings unfurl slightly as well, almost an automatic response.  The green wings of the wood sprites were like leaves in more than just appearance.  Rischa remembered the day her daddy had sat her on his knee and told her what made wood sprites special.

”Rischa, do you remember when you were little and your wings were still just curled up like leaf buds on your back?” he asked, his strong hand lightly caressing the outermost ridge of her tiny wing, then barely two inches long from shoulder to tip.  She fluttered the appendage lightly when he tickled the edge of her wing, giggling.

Rischa nodded, the smile still stuck to her face.  She, like all infant wood sprites, had sported curled up green sprouts between her shoulder blades at birth.  She barely remembered anymore, but when she was just over one year old, the buds had suddenly begun to unfurl, much like leaves reaching maturity or flowers blooming.  It had taken almost a week, but after that she had two tiny wings between her shoulder blades.  Bowman, his own wings going through a growth spurt at the time, had started to call her ‘Little Birdie’ whenever she ran up to him to flutter her delicate wings at him, showing off.

“Well, Rischa, your wings are more like leaves than they were then.  Now, you can drink the sunlight if you want to.”  Her eyes grew wide, amazed at the very concept.  She had seen adults fanning their wings luxuriously in the sun before.  Was that what drinking the sunlight looked like?

Her daddy laughed warmly, touching the tip of her nose with a finger.  She crinkled up her face and giggled.  “Tomorrow mama will take you to the Big Oak instead of breakfast.”  At Rischa’s concerned look, he smiled.  “Don’t worry, little one; when you drink the sunlight, it fills you up as if you ate an entire wildberry all by yourself!” he declared, poking her chubby little belly.  She erupted into giggles and hopped off his lap, scampering away.


After enjoying the sun for a few seconds, the girls continued on.  They made their way across the clearing, seeing many sprites sitting up on platforms that seamlessly jutted out of the trunk of the Big Oak.  Most of them had their eyes closed and their wings spread out, photosynthesizing.  Rischa knew the fancy word for what wood sprites could do, but she had always preferred the endearing term her daddy had used:  drinking the sunlight.

They walked around the base of the tree, seeing several groups of older kids loitering between the roots.  The adolescents kept themselves to the shade, but Rischa saw that some of them kept their wings fanned open slightly.  Every once in a while, a breeze would cause a sunbeam to flutter right to the base of the tree, giving the open wings a quick dose of the energy-giving light.  Rischa smiled softly; It seemed like such a peaceful day so far, and noon hadn’t even peaked in the sky.

On the opposite side of the tree, very near the roots, sat a rough circle of rocks.  As the girls approached, they could see that the rocks surrounded an opening in the ground, one lined with more stones, these ones polished and smoothed from the stream that had produced them.  For as long as anyone could remember, the Well had provided water at the base of the Big Oak.  Its legendary water helped sick sprites get better, and it seemed to make healing go much faster by clearing out infections.

The Well was so renowned, that the sprites named their home for it.  Though they only occupied a small portion of the expansive forest that protected them, every single tree was a part of Wellwood.  Rischa knew that Wellwood extended for miles and miles in many directions, and many of the older sprites insisted that the Well itself stood at the very heart.

Nanya skipped up to the well, where a woman was already drawing up some water using the rickety pulley that had been built out of sticks and a sturdy vine.  Every so often, someone had to replace the vine with a new one, but the sticks had stood the test of time, despite rain and snow and heavy wind.  The woman glanced over at the girls as they approached, smiling faintly.

“Good morning, little ones,” she greeted.  “Come for a drink?”  With one last haul on the vine, the bucket came up out of the ground, full of cool, clear water.  It sparkled faintly when glimpses of the sun fell through the leaves up above.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ara replied, eyeing the bucket.  Rischa giggled; she could practically feel the thirst wafting off of her friend.

The woman noticed too, and chuckled warmly.  “Well, I can’t say no to such a thirsty child,” she quipped.  She held the container out in front of her, and the girls approached eagerly.  They each cupped some water in their hands, sipping gratefully.

“Thank you very much, miss,” Rischa said, smiling at the woman.  It was lucky that she had been there.  It would have been quite a task for the girls to haul the water up on their own, with their parched throats and tired wings.  “We really appreciate it.”

“Such polite young ladies; who do you belong to?” The woman asked as she knelt to carefully pour the remaining water into a jug at her feet.

“I’m Nanya Crowtamer, miss,” Nanya replied, proudly pointing to the simple black bird design embroidered in the shawl around her shoulders.

“I’m Ara Winter,” Ara added, giving the woman a small curtsy.

Rischa clasped her hands behind her back, swaying slightly.  “I’m Rischa Songbird.  My mama is Candara Songbird.”

The woman nodded her head at the girls.  “And I am Lana Fairwind.  Nice to meet you young ladies.”

After they had introduced themselves to the woman, the girls went on their way.  They walked through the clearing, feeling invigorated and ready for more play.  As they neared the edge of the clearing, Ara perked up.  “Let’s go to the stream!  We can race boats!” she suggested.

Rischa tilted her head to the side.  “Race boats?  I don’t know how to make them,” she admitted, remembering the little leaf boats she had seen Bowman make from time to time.  He always made it look so easy, folding the most delicate leaves into shapes that floated so far down the stream, they were out of sight.

“I’ll show you,” Ara answered encouragingly.  With a smile, Rischa followed as Ara took off running.  They had to form a single file line to get between two of the oaks circling the clearing, since the roots bunched up on either side.  The trees looked so close together, though they remained quite healthy in spite of the crowding.

The stream flowed from somewhere in the north, looping around the village in a wide arc, before bending to the west.  Rischa remembered Bowman telling her that it later continued southwards again, flowing far beyond where he could see on his patrol route.  She wondered if he wanted to follow its progress, to find the end of the stream that provided the village with most of its water.

Several men could be seen flying over the stream, keeping their eyes open for twigs and big leaves floating on the surface.  Either one could prove quite upsetting to those who were washing the clothes and blankets for their families there.  A twig could easily snag the soft fabric and drag it far down the stream, beyond where the sprites dared to go.

As they approached the stream, two young boys their age could be seen crouching near its banks.  They were well downstream of the ladies doing the washing.  One of the boys trailed a pine needle in the water, watching the current eddy around it.  The other sat cross-legged, attempting to fold a leaf in his lap.

Rischa waved and smiled pleasantly as the girls walked up.  “Hello.  Can we play here?”

The boy trailing the pine needle in the water turned his head to look at them, his eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.  “Oh,” he said softly, his soft green eyes peering at each of them in turn.  “Yes,” he answered, his voice still very quiet.  “Tenn is making boats,” he added, inclining his head in the direction of the other boy.

“Trying to,” the other boy corrected.  He looked up, piercing gold-brown eyes regarding the new arrivals.  “Do you know how to make boats?” he asked hopefully.

Rischa shook her head, but Ara stepped forward, crouching next to Tenn.  “I’ll try,” she offered, holding out her hands.  He gave her the leaf and she began struggling with it.

“I’m Tenner,” Tenn introduced himself.  “That’s Ralis.  He’s only seven.”  When Tenn revealed his age, Ralis cast a glare over his shoulder at him.

Rischa giggled.  “Nice to meet you.  I’m Rischa.  This is Nanya, and that’s Ara.”

“Almost got it!” Ara said, her tongue pinched between her teeth as she concentrated.

Nanya knelt by the water’s edge.  She leaned over to dip her hand into the water with a soft smile.   “The water is cold today,” she commented.

“That’s ‘cause it rained,” Ralis commented.

“Got it!” Ara announced triumphantly, standing and holding the folded leaf-boat in the air.

“Great!” Rischa answered, as Tenner picked up another leaf and started working on it to build a second boat.  “Can I see how you do that?” Rischa asked, watching Tenner’s progress closely.  He seemed to have less difficulty with the second leaf; it was quite a bit thinner.

In minutes, they had made three boats, Rischa watching closely while absently clutching the acorn cap to her chest.  She thought she understood the method, but to be safe she planned to ask Bowman to show her later.

“Can we race them now?” Ralis asked, standing for the first time since they’d arrived.  He was tall and skinny for someone a year younger than her.  He would definitely grow to be quite tall, perhaps even four and a half inches!

Rischa leaned over to hold one of the boats above the water.  Ara held another, and Tenner held the third.  “Three,” Rischa began.  But the other two dropped their boats in the water before she could count two.  “Hey!” she yelped, hurriedly dropping her own leaf boat in the water.  To her amazement, it didn’t fill with water and sink, but it raced down the current with the others.  She hurriedly pushed herself to her feet, running alongside the stream.

“Go, go go!” Tenner yelled, a grin plastered on his face.

“Come on, little boat,” Rischa called encouragingly, willing her leaf to overtake the others.  The leaves bobbed and wove as the current dragged them along, soon traveling faster than the kids could run.  They all stopped, laughing at breathing heavily from the sprint.

“I think mine won,” Tenner announced, sounding quite sure of himself.

“No way, Tenn,” Ara countered, putting her hands on her hips.

“Maybe we should make more to decide,” Rischa suggested hopefully.  That had been fun!  She wanted to try to make one of her own.

A breeze sighed on by as they set to searching for more suitable leaves.  Rischa smiled to herself, glad that she and her friends had decided to come to the stream.  She always welcomed a chance to make new friends.  Hopefully Tenn and Ralis would be willing to play with them again tomorrow, too.