Children of the Glimmer Pool by Obstinate Anarchist (book series for 10 year olds .TXT) 📕

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Farren stepped onto the old wooden planks that acted as the floorboards and shuffled her feet around uncomfortably. “This is a lovely little-”

“Shithole? Yeah. It's not mine, thank Frederick,” Maritza laughed. She made her way over to the cobblestone fireplace and grabbed a bundle of dry branches, tossing them into the embers of the fire that had probably been roaring hours ago. “It's actually one of my relative's cottage. They're sort of... on leave at the moment. I came here a while ago so I could have some peace and quiet. You know, to get my work done,” she explained, reaching for a small bit of moss that was crumbly and yellowed. She tossed it onto the ashes, on top of the red glow coming from beneath it, and in a matter of minutes, the rekindled flames were greedily licking up the tinder and the firewood.

“What is it you do? Your work, I mean,” Farren questioned, making her way to the fireplace and holding her hands at a suitable distance from the flames.

Maritza stood up and began untangling the numerous mugs hanging from her waist. “You ever hear of bean water?”

“Bean water? That bitter, brownish stuff?” Farren looked to Maritza, who nodded her head in confirmation. “I drink it all the time. Love it,” she replied honestly.

“I make mugs for it. I have quite the collection, actually,” Maritza grinned, setting the mugs that she had taken from her waist and setting them just beside the fireplace. “So, Farren,” she began, turning to look over at the smaller girl, “I have a few questions for you.” She brushed a few locks of hair behind her ear and moved to plop down onto the old wicker sofa. “What happened to you?”

Farren's brow was creased with confusion. “I'm sorry, I don't really understand what you mean...” she shuffled to sit with her legs crossed under her, back to the fire now.

“Your clothes are all wet, your hair is messy and damp, and you pretty much looked like you were terrified out of your mind when I found you.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.”

“Um...”

“If I'm crossing some sort of line here, let me know, but I mean... No, you know what, come on, spit it out now,” Maritza grinned in a teasing manner, leaning into the cushions of the sofa.

The brunette girl let out a small laugh and readjusted her position a bit. “There's no real line. It's sort of just a weird thing. A couple miles back, just outside of the Desert Village's territory, I met up with these two girls. I'm not all that sure where they had been going at the time, but we all ended up going along together, wherever it was. The one girl, Iris, she's real nice. And the other one, Nova, she seems scary and she called me a stalker, but she really doesn't mean it.

“We were crossing this log, you know, over the river that this stream comes from, I think. Nova had crossed first and I went second and my foot slipped and Nova tried to help me back up and onto the other side. And then I guess the old log couldn't really sustain the weight of the two of us,” Farren explained, her voice growing a little shaky. “I remember hitting the water before anything else. And Iris looked so horrified. And Nova... I couldn't find her. I was so scared.” She cut herself off, desperately trying to push away the feelings of  terror so that she could continue. “I don't remember seeing where Nova went. I just sort of let the water do what it wanted and when I woke up, I just wanted to find someone. Anybody, really. So I ran in the woods and you found me and here we are.”

Maritza's brown eyes scanned over Farren, who had finally gone quiet. She seemed to understand most of what the younger girl had been telling her and after a long moment of silence, she stood up and dusted down the front of her plaid shirt. “Well, Farren. I think perhaps it might be best for you to stay here for the night. And then tomorrow, we'll search for your friends. Does that sound alright?”

In all truth, after telling Maritza the whole story, Farren wanted to get back outside and go search for her friends, but in reality, she was physically and mentally exhausted. Relaxing and getting some needed rest sounded like the best option. “Is that really okay?” Farren asked slowly, seeming unsure.

“Of course it's okay. I think there's a spare bedroom you can stay in,” Maritza smiled warmly at Farren and stood up off of the sofa, stretched, and peered out of the small little windows before turning her attention back to Farren. “It won't be long before the sun's completely down. I'll make you something to eat, how's that?”

Farren only just then realized how hungry she was and her stomach seemed to respond for her with a loud growl. Her ears were hot with embarrassment as Maritza laughed and made her way into another room, no doubt the kitchen. “I'll take that as a yes.” 

 Unfortunately for Iris, in this long amount of time, she had yet to encounter anyone at all and in honestly, she was starting to lose hope. By now, she thought that she'd have come across someone, be it a Desert Village tracker, a traveler, or even a rabbit, but as fate would have it, she was without a companion, and not to mention, without a dog sled. The one she had used to slide down the slope had ended up breaking apart.

“Damn fate,” the blonde girl muttered bitterly, tugging the hood of her navy green cloak over her head. “Damn fate and damn destiny. Damn all of it.” Most of this cursing was fueled by her own personal problems, but Iris felt the need to take it out on the world. She hadn't made any progress. The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the horizon and the stars were beginning to make themselves visible.

To say the least, Iris felt miserable. “Hasn't this happened too many times already?” She asked herself, pulling the cloak about herself. She turned her emerald gaze to the river rushing along beside her and felt a pit in her stomach. Her head jerked away, forcing her to look elsewhere before she could start becoming sentimental again.

She was determined to continue looking for Farren and Nova all night if she needed to, but a little voice in the back of her head called out to her: reason. What good would endless searching do if the girls were dead? What if they were swept away by the waves and they had been drowned? There would be no point for her to search, to feel guilty about them.

“Alright, alright,” Iris snapped. She could care less that she was talking to herself. She found that it was comforting, in a way. “Forget it. If they lived, they lived. Get over it. They're sensible people. They'll find someone and they'll be fine. If they died, they died. You can't change fate,” she decided, completely disregarding that fact that she had just damned fate moments ago.

Her eyes flickered to the river again and just as she had earlier, Iris looked away and turned them elsewhere, which happened to be the forest. Or rather, past it, into it. Her stomach was doing flips and she wasn't sure what was happening right now. Either her internal compass had kicked in or something was drawing her toward the forest. And it didn't matter to her right now, just as long as she got away from the river. It was sending her a plethora of bad vibes, bad emotions, and she didn't have time to deal with any of it. So, Iris turned her back to the river and as quickly as she could, started away from the bank and sprinted toward the trees.

Only a half hour after she had started into the forest did the sun finally set, shrouding the entire world around her in darkness. Typically whenever Iris ventured into the forest she would be on guard at all times, one hand on the handle of her dirk, the other clutching her cloak tightly about her. But for some reason, this part of the forest seemed to send her into a calm, collected state.

The feeling that seemed to lead her into the forest, what Iris had called her internal compass, hadn't let up. In fact, it had just intensified. The strength of the feeling sent shivers through her body and the surface of her skin felt as though it were tingling. In most cases, this happens to newcomers of the Arctic Village, namely because of the frigid temperatures. However, Iris' strange feelings were not a result of the weather. It was quite warm out, even despite the sun setting.

Any normal person may have been frightened by this strange occurrence and may have found the silence of the forest ominous, but in a strange way, it comforted Iris. Even in the darkness, she managed to walk along without trouble, stepping over large rocks, around broken twigs, and away from poisonous shrubs or leaves. Actually, Iris felt as though she were following a path that felt so familiar she could have picked her way through it if she were sleeping.

“I've gone insane. That's the only reasonable answer for this. Oh god, I'm beginning my descent into madness,” Iris muttered in a sarcastic tone, though it was more or less halfhearted. This statement seemed to send her back into reality and once again, she stopped where she was standing, staring at the ground with a quizzical expression. “This isn't a good idea.”

Apparently, changing her mind about certain subjects was a common occurrence, because Iris felt the need to turn around and get back to the river. Just as she moved to turn on her heel, the palm of her hand, the one she had cut with her dirk, started to throb rather painfully, as though she had reopened the wound. Iris instinctively moved her hand to her face to inspect it for blood, but her skin was devoid of any of the liquid.

Iris cringed at the intensity of the pain shooting through her hand and in an effort to stop it, she whipped her head about, searching for a water source. It felt like she had thrust her hand into a fire and the flames were biting at the tender area. She clutched her hand to her chest and just like earlier, she felt her legs carry her forward, more or less of her own will. For a few moments, she thought the pain was so unbearable that she considered sitting down and just crying. Not only did she have a low pain tolerance, she also had a habit