The Elder’s Tale
The next morning, they sought wisdom from the oldest resident, a woman whose eyes held the deep calm of the river itself. With a voice like rustling leaves, she recounted tales of a shape in the water, seen when she was a girl.
“The river has currents deeper than just water,” she said cryptically. Her story, told with the gravity of someone who believed every word, spoke of a figure that danced in the twilight mists, a spirit or omen, she couldn’t say which. Her recollections sent ripples through the trio’s certainty.