Chapter Text
Coco adjusted the shoulder straps that looped onto the basket on her back as she walked into the forest. When she had been younger the basket of laundry her mother gave her was small enough to carry in her hands. As she had grown, so too did the basket double in size. She also was no longer responsible just for the household laundry but also for the fabrics from their garment shop. These fabrics tended to be more expensive, and thus heavier, than the ones Coco and her mother selected for their own wardrobes. So, Coco had to adjust her carrying methodology to handle the additional load. It wasn’t a perfect solution and if it wasn’t for her destination Coco would most likely dislike the amount labor to a greater extent.
Her destination was nothing short of a small miracle. A little secret tucked away in the trees behind her house. It was a small magic-touched spring that never ran out of clean water. Coco could still remember the absolute wonder she felt when her mother first showed it to her. It was easy to recall because she still felt it every time she returned, never diminished by time. It was enough to make her heavy baskets feel a little lighter, no matter how many trips she had to make back and forth. The only true burden of her laundry visits to the spring was having to keep it a secret.
In the old times magic used to be prevalent throughout the world. Miracles could be witnessed daily and what now seemed wondrous was common place. However, that was all before the Bombardment. Now magic could only be found in crumbling ruins and weathered artifacts. Most of these places were dangerous, cursed with whatever made magic rot in the first place. Those that were still stable were coveted by the royals and nobility of the land. They weren’t meant for common folk. If they wanted magic for themselves, they had to risk venturing into those forbidden places and hope they could find a still functional contraption. Broken ones wouldn’t do as only witches knew how work with magic, and they all withered and faded out along with their great magics. That’s why Coco’s mom told her to keep the spring a secret, otherwise it would be taken away from them.
The fear of losing this special gift was enough to keep Coco quiet, but it wasn’t always easy. When she was younger, she could hardly contain her excitement over the wonder of it all. Coco had never seen anything more spectacular than magic and it consumed her every thought. She wanted to talk about it, know more about it, learn how to do it herself. It nearly broke her heart when she learned not one of those things would be possible for her. It was a needle prick in the heart every time her mother shot her a warning stare when her mouth got moving faster than her thoughts, excited words tumbling out almost too fast to catch. Eventually, Coco learned that the disappointment of never saying anything was easier to bear than the halt of a scolding.
When it all became too much, when the tiny pricks culminated enough to make a hole big enough for tears to start seeping through, Coco would run away to her magical spring in the forest. She would stare out at that crystalline water and think to herself that if this miracle could exist, why couldn’t another? Why couldn’t there be a miracle that let her see more of what magic could do? Why couldn’t there be a miracle that let her wield that power for herself and let her soar through the sky with the quadryphons or run with the swift torchstags in the valley?
Why did such a beautiful thing have to be hidden away and only for her eyes alone?
Coco thought about what a blessing this spring was for her and her mother. It took away hours of labor and stress for their lives. When the village was suffering through a particularly dry and hot summer Coco and her mother never suffered because the spring was there. Its water were always perfectly cool and clean, and it never ran out. Coco had made the attempt to haul some buckets to the old ladies who raised spotted frillram on the neighboring farm. She wanted to share her family’s bounty with those that always shared theirs with them. She already thought of exactly how she would play dumb about the magic of water, claiming she had simply collected it from a small eddy pool along the creek. However, she quickly learned the magic was not in the water itself. The water she brought the old ladies ran out just the same as any other. Her frustration at the whole situation made her avoid the spring all together for several days.
Why did magic have to be so particular and capricious with its gifts?
Yet, Coco’s heart would never let her stay away from the spring for long, and she had endless forgiveness for the magic that had helped her so many times. She still found herself marveling at its waters just the same as when she was younger. She could lose hours just sitting on the banks with her feet dangling lazily in the cool spring. One reason why her mother started loading her up with more laundry, because if she was going to be out there anyways, she might as well make herself useful. So, while all of these heavy things gathered in the corners of her mind and the basket on her back, Coco felt light as a feather as she marched toward the spring over and over, always returning.
Coco hummed to herself as she made her way through the trees. She often tried to see if she could match a birdsong, but she didn’t hear any today. In fact, the whole forest felt still and quiet. It was although the forest was holding its breath, too scared to move the tiniest bit. She had noticed this too late. She was nearly at the spring. Her feet which had carried her steadily on their own began to falter as awareness soaked into her body. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know how to speak to the trees to discern their warning. Now, Coco was the one holding her breath, though she was not aware of it. With widened eyes she carefully stretched her head past the last copse of trees that block her view of the spring.
Her gasp was quick, high pitched with strain as she involuntarily tried to pull in air against lungs already holding on to so much. Shock sent her into a frightened scramble. Neither her body nor her mind could discern what to do and tried to do several things all once. She pitched awkwardly from the weight on her back as she stumbled on the soft dirt and fell to the ground. The hard impact helped settle her mind, giving her a clear input to focus on. Coco untangled herself from the straps of her basket and pulled herself onto her hands and knees. She stared out into the spring, trying to make sense of the scene before her.
There was a thing in the center of the spring. A body. No, a person. It was hard to make out. There was a tangled mess of long, dark, curly hair and swathes of flowing fabrics wrapped all around the awkward angles of limbs. What wasn’t drenched though with water was soaked with blood. It was stark and vibrant red, standing out against the cool blue of the spring’s water with devasting contrast. Dark clouds formed where they mixed together. They reminded Coco of storm clouds the way it seemed light was flashing inside them.
A cold shiver rattled her body as she understood what was happening. Whenever the spring cleared itself of impurities there was always a soft glow of yellow light. The magic of the spring was trying to clean the blood, but it was unable. The spell was sparking in the clouds of blood, but unable to clear it away. Coco’s heart seized.
Is the magic failing?
Coco violently shook her head. What a ridiculous fear to be having now. There was something far more terrifying and immediate to be concerned with. A person could be dying. She shouldn’t be so preoccupied with losing magic at a time like this.
With her resolve set, Coco quickly stripped off her shoes, outer robe, and apron. She ran into the water toward the floating body. The spring wasn’t very deep, even at its center. She wouldn’t have to worry about swimming. Her feet could touch the smooth stones of the bottom the whole way. All the same she needed to move quickly and launched herself into a half-paddle-crawl. She couldn’t see the face of the person which might mean they were drowning face down. There was no telling how long they had already been there. She had no time to lose.
Once Coco got to the body she quickly grasped onto what she identified as shoulders and flipped them around. Her panicked fingers clumsily pushed wet, tangled strands of hair from their face, trying to clear their nose and mouth.
A split second stretched into minutes as Coco saw their full face for the first time. She looked to be a girl about the same age as Coco. Her perfectly smooth skin was pale as though she had never seen the sun. She had a severe face made of regal angles and symmetrical features. Even weak, unconscious, and half covered in blood from a cut on her forehead Coco could see her stalwartness. Somehow in this terrifying fraction of time that felt impossibly long, almost like a dream, Coco’s mind could only conjure one word.
Beautiful.
Then any sense of serenity was forced away and reality returned. Violent coughs racked her battered frame as her mouth found air once more. Coco was so relieved that she was still alive that she paid no mind to the spray of water and blood. She tried to adjust her hold on the stranger to help rid the water from her mouth, concerned the roughness of the coughing would only harm her more. The stranger made weak sounds of discomfort at being shifted. Her eyes opened a fractional amount, but Coco wasn’t sure how much her could really see through the tiny opening curtained by thick, long lashes. She couldn’t even see the color of them.
“Is it alright if I move you?” Coco asked gently. Though her heart was still pounding in her chest, the rhythm had become stable. Seeing the stranger still alive made the panic slowly drain away, giving strength and solidity to her body and mind and allowing her to act with more certainty. “We can’t leave you in the water.”
The stranger made an unintelligible sound. Coco couldn’t tell if it was conscious response or simply a groan of pain. Since the coughing stopped and her breathing appeared even, Coco took it as an okay to move her.
Coco moved to stand behind her and rested the back of her head on her shoulder. Then she gently hooked her arms underneath the stranger’s armpits with her hands carefully clasped over her chest. Slowly she began walking backward toward the bank, carefully pulling the stranger along. She had expected the water to buoy some of her weight, but she still found her slight frame weighed less than she anticipated, even with heavy layers of waterlogged clothing. Coco decided to focus on this detail rather than the film of blood trailing off her body.
Once out of the water Coco set to the task of tending to the bleeding. She reached over to her abandoned apron and began dabbing at the cut on the stranger’s forehead. She let out a sharp hiss as Coco pulled at the skin little too roughly. Coco quickly pulled her hand away as if she touched a still hot coal.
“Sorry,” Coco quickly said.
The stranger’s eyes were opened fully now, revealing amethyst-colored irises. She stared up at Coco, but their gaze was unfocused. “Wha—woah.” Her mouth was only able to form unclear half-words. Then she began coughing weakly. It sounded a little wet and Coco was scared there was still a little water in her lungs. She tried to roll the stranger onto her side to help evacuate the water, but she only let out a cry of pain instead.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Coco repeated in a panic. “Is there something wrong with your shoulder?”
“Hurts,” was all she said in response.
Encouraged by her first coherent response and the lack of coughing, Coco set to looking at her shoulder. Pulling off the stranger’s cloak to get a good look at it was no easy task. It was woven from a heavy weight fabric which absorbed a lot of water. Along with all the decorative tassels and ribbons, it was difficult to undo. There was a lot of pained groaning from the stranger and quietly repeated apologies from Coco. Thankfully, her shirt was much thinner and Coco could see the extent of injuries more clearly.
Her shoulder was sticking out with an awkward bump like it had been dislocated. Coco only knew because she had seen something similar when one of the village boys had fallen off the roof while doing some repairs after a storm. There were also several areas where the shirt was torn and the skin underneath looked like it had been scraped. This accounted for most of the blood. Still Coco was baffled by this collection of injuries. There were no signs of weapons or animal attacks. How did she end up hurt as if they had fallen or dragged? How did she end up in the middle of the spring?
All questions for another time. Coco could help, but only so much out here, alone in the forest. She needed to get the stranger back home. Grabbing all the discarded clothing and some nearby sticks, Coco fashioned a makeshift litter. She would have to leave behind her basket of laundry, but she wasn’t worried. It’s not like anyone came out here anyways.
“Alright, it’s a bit of a walk back. You’re going to have to bear with the pain, okay?” Coco said, checking in with the stranger after rolling her onto the litter.
She looked more aware than before, but she had remained silent except a few errant coughs, doing nothing more than staring while Coco had worked. Now, those dark purple eyes had a hard edge to them as they looked back at her. They were eyes full of harsh emotions and protest. Coco was stunned when the stranger said, “Fine.” She settled back into the litter and let her eyes drop half closed.
Coco swallowed hard before getting to her feet. She was glad the only way to carry the litter was to let it drag behind her. She didn’t think she could look at the stranger for much longer, though she couldn’t name the unsettled feeling as to why. All she knew was that there was a restlessness inside her chest.
Get home. Get help.
That’s what she needed to focus on now.