"Seymour! SEYMOUR!"

He woke abruptly to find Seoc shaking him by the shoulders, shouting in his face. So it had been a dream. Relief flooded over him, shortly followed by fear. Why did Seoc look so scared?

"What is it?"

Seoc sat back on his heels. "Are you alright?"

"Wha...what do you mean?"

"You were cryin'," Seoc explained. "I thought somethin' might be wrong."

Seymour touched his own face, finding it wet with tears. Somewhat abashedly, he dried his eyes with his sleeve. "Oh. Shit. I'm sorry about that. No," he assured himself as much as Seoc, "nothing is wrong. I just had a really strange dream." For it had to have been a dream, didn't it? Mythological figures didn't meddle in the matters of mortals, did they? He was a creature of logic, and such happenings were not compatible with his conscious mental functions.

Seoc's anxiety faded to embarrassment. "Right," he mumbled. "Sorry I bothered you."

"No. Don't be. Really, I--"

Simon gave an alarmed shout from the banks of the river, cutting him off. After a moment of hesitation, both Seymour and Seoc scrambled to their feet and trotted toward the sound of his voice.

It appeared that Simon had finally given a thought to his hygiene, for he was standing in the shallows, wearing only his too-small, ragged trousers while the rain fell in sheets around him. Something, however, had distracted him from his makeshift bath, for he stood rigidly, staring out toward the middle of the river.

Two distinct thoughts ran through Seymour's head in rapid succession. The first, oddly, was Thank Rezyn he isn't naked. The second was a bit more concise:


A pale, terrifyingly beautiful, scantily clad woman had appeared in--no, risen from--the deepest part of the Waelyngar River and was now wading toward them without any regard for the current. Seymour recognized her immediately and felt his muscles freeze up in horror.

The End

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