fed mere, and though the water was chill, she doffed her clothes and parted the reeds and slipped into the limpid pool, gasping at the bite of the water.
Saving her precious soap for her hair, she scrubbed her skin with sand from the bottom. As she did so, again she heard the patter of tiny feet and the sound of a faint giggle. “Allo! Bonjour! Who is there?” she called, unable to see aught for the reeds. Once more came a giggle, and then the sound of wee feet running away.
Camille sighed. If the Bear is correct, ’tis small Sprites you hear, ma fille.
Working swiftly, soon she had scrubbed herself clean and had washed her golden tresses. As she clambered out through the reeds and into the chill morning air- Oh, no. How will I dry myself? — she found a soft cloth for a towel lying next to her clothing, and looked up to see the black Bear ambling away.
And when she returned to the campfire, she found waiting a mug of hot tea and a meal of cold biscuits. They, too, were delicious.
Her hair, though combed, was still wet when once more Camille mounted up, and the Bear headed through the forest again. As they padded onward, she could hear rustlings in the surround. In the morning light, Camille looked left and right, fore and aft, seeking to see what made the swash and swish among the undergrowth. Perhaps it’s whoever set the fire and spitted the rabbits last night, and who made the tea in the morn, and who may have been watching me bathe. Camille blushed at this last, yet she continued to search among the bracken and tall grass and the boles of the trees, where wisps of the morning mist yet threaded the greenery here and there. Finally, down within the early shadows, she thought she detected movement, for she caught glimpses of somethings or someones, small beings, perhaps, passing through the woods, though the sightings were so brief she could not be certain.
The morning light waxed, and the sun shone aglance through the branches of the trees and down, and though it was daylight where trod the Bear, the distant twilight yet clung to the forest afar.
Now Camille was certain she saw small beings keeping pace, for now and again one would pass through a shaft of sunlight, and it seemed they were riding small animals of some sort, lynxes she thought, though she was not certain.
Onward went the Bear and onward she rode, yet scanning the surround; and then she gasped, for in the near distance and passing among the trees and keeping pace on a parallel track was a small white horse or some such, yet out of its head rose a- Oh, my, it is a Unicorn! Just like the one pictured on the tapestry in the sanctuary. “They seek out unsullied maidens,” Fra Galanni had said, but then did not tell me what unsullied meant, though Agnes, votary of Mithras and gardener to Fra Galanni, told me it meant ‘pure.’
When the sun reached the zenith, again the Bear stopped. And this time they dined on true mushrooms, the kind Fra Galanni had named in the Old Tongue “le champignon de morelle, une autre nourriture des dieux,” and Camille had to agree, for morels truly also must be the food of the gods. Still, the truffle of yesterday had seemed even better. But here in this place the Bear had found an excess of the mushrooms, and he and Camille dined extravagantly. “O Bear, are mushrooms and the like to be our everyday midday diet? Even though these are delicious, I think our palates will grow weary of such over time.”
The Bear did not respond, but continued snuffling after the scent of mushrooms and gobbling down those he found.
After a rest and a drink from a nearby stream, onward they pressed, and Camille began to wonder just how far away the Summerwood lay, for the Springwood was yet all about.
In midafternoon they topped a rise and came to the lip of a wide, deep gorge. Along one side sheer rock fell into the depths, while along the other, numerous waterfalls cascaded over the brim and down. On the floor of the ravine far below, the Springwood continued, the new green leaves vivid in the light of the afternoon sun. A river wended along the bottom of the gorge and seemed to disappear into a great split at the base of the rock-wall face. Far to the fore and in the distant twilight, the slope of the gorge rose up to meet the crags of a rising mountain range, and Camille thought she could see snow lying high.
The Bear turned toward the cataracts and padded along the rim. He came to a pathway down into the chasm, and this he followed, descending toward the floor far below, the way quite narrow for the Bear, and the drop into the depths sheer. Gasping, Camille grasped the harness and cast her bent leg across the Bear, changing from sidesaddle to astride, for she thought it a safer way to ride. Now more firmly mounted, she did turn about to see if any wee folk were arear, those who perhaps were accompanying the Bear on the journey, but the way behind was clear of followers, and the path ahead clear as well. Looking up, she saw on the rim above the Unicorn standing in a shaft of sunlight, its coat a glorious white, as if the sun itself held the magnificent creature in awe, but it made no move to follow the Bear down into the deepness below.
The Bear came alongside a cataract plunging, the great downpour falling silently but for the rush of wind, the water to thunder into a churning pool far under. And as the Bear wended back and forth along a series of switchbacks, now and again Camille thought she could hear giggling, yet the ways before and behind seemed clear. But then as they came toward the waterfall again, the laughter came quite near, and Camille’s eyes widened in astonishment, for swimming within and up the cataract was a trio of small laughing beings: nearly transparent they were, as of water itself come alive. Webbed fingers and long webbed feet they had, the latter somewhat like fishtails. Translucent hair streamed down from their heads, as if made of flowing tendrils of crystal. And they were female, Camille could see, for pert breasts and all-but-smooth cleft groins did they have. And though completely engulfed in lucid water, still did their laughter come ringing clear. And they swam, oh how they swam, defying the power of the cataract, as up and up they drove, until they were lost to sight. Camille in awe looked upward, yet seeking, but they were gone as if vanished. Then Camille laughed in joy, for momentarily the trio of two-foot-tall beings reappeared, standing on the lip of the linn high above, only to dive into the falls and plunge merrily past, their shrieks of gaiety growing and then fading as they hurtled nigh and at hand and down.
“Oh, Bear, oh, Bear, did you see and hear? Waterfolk. Waterfolk dear.”
The Bear merely grunted, and, bearing Camille, followed the narrow way.
On down they went and down, down to the valley floor, and the sun sailed downward as well. When they reached the bottom of the gorge, shadows from the mountains ahead o’erspread the land. But to the fore and alongside the river a small campfire burned, and upon arriving at the stone-encircled blaze, they found pheasants roasting above.
That night Camille awoke to find the valley filled with wee dancing lights flitting among the trees, as of a tiny folk bearing lanterns and riding upon dragonflies. While the Bear had been nigh when she had gone to sleep, of him there was now no sign, though the back of her neck did tingle, as if an unseen observer stood somewhere in the darkness watching her. And even though she saw the Bear not, still she did feel safe, and she fell asleep again, while in the forest all ’round, dancing lights did weave.
After fording the river next day, up a long slope toward the far end of the valley they fared, making for the mountains ahead, Camille again riding astride. And as they went, the noontime came, and this day they dined on wild spring eschalots and the pale tubers of a sedgelike plant, all harvested by the Bear from the earthy banks of a stream, the gentle piquancy of the shallot bulbs complementing the mildly sweet and starchy taste of the nodules of sedgelike rootstock.
After their meal, up the long remainder of the slope they went and out from the valley, and as they reached the beginning of the mountains, they came to the end of the Springwood. In contrast to the land behind, that before them was snow-covered and ice-laden and bleak. It was marked by a border of twilight, a dusky wall rearing up unto the sky, only this seemed a darker, more sinister marge than the one they had crossed when they had first entered Faery, and the moment the Bear stepped into that bound his ebony color vanished, and once again he became an immaculate white. Within the ambit of that frigid realm a harsh coldness bore down upon them, and Camille donned her cloak and wrapped it tight about her and pulled her hood up and ’round, for they had come once more into the brutal clutch of cruel winter.
Camille looked at the way before them and gasped, for ahead stood a tangled and twisted wood, with barren, stark trees clawing at a drab, overcast sky. All was black and white and gray, no color whatsoever in the land. And there at the verge of this drear and lifeless place, the Bear paused as if reluctant to pass into the grim fastness beyond. But he roared in challenge, and clawed the frozen earth, and then pressed forward and into the wood.
And as they entered this desolate snarl, Camille took a deep breath and straightened her spine, though her heart was racing in dread.
