It was early dawn when the trees were most beautiful and the rivers were most quenching. She head out towards the valley where the village's only river falls from a majestic height, flowing ever so freely to it's branches. A little girl of six ran barefoot across the forest floor, giggling softly as her small feet touched the mosses still coated with dews of morn.
The waterfall had always been home to her. She loved the cave that lie beside it and would often pass her days playing by herself within the cave or beside the river.
Many villagers would complain of her whereabouts to her grandmother.
"A girl her age...it is not safe to wander recklessly near the falls." They'd say.
Her grandmother would often reply:
"That child is a free spirit,
The Earth loves her, Mother Nature will keep her safe."
And a free spirit she was. She would run, stumble and bleed, but she would very carelessly plaster her wound with mud and it would heal in no time. She knows where to find the most luscious gooseberries to which she would squint her eyes, pucker her lips and shiver slightly after biting into one sour berry.
She'd run from hill to hill but she'd always return to the cave and bid her farewell for the day when evening comes.
At home, her grandmother would have had her bath ready every evening before she returns. After a warm bath, she'd tell her grandmother stories of her little adventures and in turn, her grandmother would tell her of all magickal beings and things that walk the Earth to which she would have endless questions. More than often, her grandmother would tell her that the answers might have to wait till the next day. Since it would be so late at night by the time their conversations end.
Lying on the small wooden cot beside her grandmother in that room lit warmly by the flicker of a lamp's wick she would look at her grandmother and say:
"What beautiful hair you have grandma, I wish mine would be silver like yours."
To which her grandma would laugh and reply:
"My dear, yours will be as silver as the moon when you come of age."
At times she would say:
"You smell like the river, grandma."
To which her grandma would reply:
"And you smell like Magick,little one."
And that's how their nights went on, peaceful and serene. They adored each other and one needs the other. Their interdependence brought about balance in their lives. If a force were to topple one, the other would break. Then who shall fill that void?