River Stone and Lantern Light

A young woman stood by the muddy bank, watching the dark water flow toward the silent forest.

She stood by the bank. Mud stuck to her boots. The river moved, dark and slow, a strip sliding toward the deep shadows of the trees.

Water lapped over the stones. Each small wave caught a quick, pale flash of the night sky. She watched the current pull the water away, into the quiet where the trees grew thick and old.

A single lantern hung from a branch. Its light was small, a warm, shaking yellow against the growing black. The water seemed to take the light, making it shine for a second before the dark took it.

A fox stepped onto the edge of the bank. Its fur was the color of burnt rust. It moved smoothly, stopping only to look at the woman by the water.

The fox did not run. It just stood, its eyes showing the faint light of the lantern. The river kept moving, not caring about the small scene on its edge. The woman did not move. She only watched the fox and the water meet.

The light blinked once, then stayed steady. The fox turned, disappearing into the deeper dark of the woods. The river kept flowing, the stone under her foot cold and hard. The lantern burned on, a small, steady fire in the wide, moving dark.