Rescuing Woodland Water Creatures: A Unique Encounter
The Watersprites: Chapter 4 – Saving the Children of the Ancient Wood
Beth pulled off her hoody and soaked it in water. Wrapped it around Freya’s shoulders. Offered Jay’s old swimming towel to Hersch. They didn’t flinch. They didn’t speak. But they followed.
It was like rescuing a distressed pet. But these were not pets. They were someone’s children of a kind. Jay thought of them like ponies. Easy in human company and intelligent enough to see they needed help.
The water sprites were happy to be led back down the path to Jay’s waiting car – his late father’s battered Volvo estate.
They drove in silence at first. A playlist kicked in—one of Jay’s, a mixture of retro synth and ambient guitar. Beth didn’t ask questions. She kept glancing into the rear-view mirror. Hersch was curled sideways in the back seat, mouth open, sound asleep. Freya stared out the window, one hand pressed against the glass, eyes wide at the sky.
Jay reached for her hand but stopped.
“I think we’ve just stolen someone else’s children,” he murmured.
Beth didn’t answer.
“I need to tell Professor Marsh,” she added finally. “I need help.”
Jay frowned. “You trust him?”
“No. But we have something interesting, something vulnerable, something unique here.”
“Is that what they are? Things,” Jay asked, turning to look at the older of the two. “What do we call them? These woodland water creatures”.
“They’re not pets. Who knows, they may have their own names.”
“They’re like something out of an Arthur Rackham fairy tale.”
“‘Watersprites’” is the word you are looking for,” Beth said.
That night, Jay couldn’t sleep.
He lay awake listening to the faint splashing from the garden pool. The Wendy House had been converted in haste—blankets, a string of camping lights, a space heater. They hadn’t wanted to bring them inside. Not yet.
Jay had seen hundreds of swimmers—para-athletes, teenagers, late bloomers, even veterans. But nothing like what he saw in the pond.
Not just the speed—but the grace. The fluidity. The dolphin kick wasn’t learned. It was grown. Their knees are bent further than their knees should be. Their toes flared like paddles.
He didn’t want to explain it. Not yet.
They were safe for now.
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