One well needed shower, one nap and one new crocheted wristband later, Clover found herself landing in front of a large mansion.

Light brown brick was encased an ironwork made to look like metal vines wrapped across the house. She wasn’t there for the house though, and she would definitely be an uninvited guest.

She turned to her left and headed to the forest. The trees there were tall and lithe. Their leaves grew in clumps of circles and fell around her in colours of light green, purple and a mellow yellow. The wind blew through and made the long grass whistle and the little white drooping bell flowers dance.

Mort told her that the brook was a short walk in, just keep walking straight. So she did. It was calm in the little forest she wished she could have spent longer in it.

She reached the small burbling brook. It gently cascaded water through the wood. There was nothing that seemed out of place. Nothing that could have snatched away a child. Was there?

Is there something I am missing?

She wondered through the forest for hours, combing through the grass, climbing up a few trees in search of clues.

She ended up next to the brook and put her hand into the water. It was cold.

She was getting frustrated.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. Give me something, something, something. It’s so quiet here. Warm too. Not like the other forest… the … other forest?

She sat up straighter.

The other forests. The past few children. When I found them, they were wondering alone in a forest too. A long way away from their families. I never paid attention to that. Is there someone stealing children and placing them into forests? Why? Or is it…

She reached for the stone around the neck.

The river… It’s calling. But… is it calling them? How could it … then again. It called to us.

She pondered for a moment, then let out a very long sigh.

I don’t want to do this. Argh. Why.

She touched her stone and pressed down, while closing her eyes. 

Take me… home.

In an instant she stood in front of an old run down house. It’s thatched roof was definitely on the verge of coming down.

Clover was disorientated though. She dry heaved for a little bit. You could travel using just one stone, but the journey is too quick, warping through worlds like that, for a body that isn’t made for it. Some who do it constantly, as you were meant to, get used to it. But not Clover. She hadn’t been back home ever since she first left.

After feeling like herself again, she spun to face the river. She staggered towards it. It was definitely gushing past a lot faster than usual. It’s water was bubbling and rippling angrily.

"What do you want you stupid thing?"

She put her hand into the water. It felt like ice, it felt like fire. For a little bit it felt… happy. She retrieved her hand.

“No… you’re not calling the children. You want us to come back… don’t you? No. We can't be here anymore. You’ve taken too many of us already. There are only three of us left, and we are not going to make more of us. I cannot, and will not, drown a child just to past on what I know.”

The river just gurgled past, though in her head, it almost sounded like it was moaning.

“I hate coming here.” She turned to the house. Her house. She grew up in that house.

She strolled past through the wildflowers; they clung close to her boots.

The door was dusty. Not used in many years. She walked in. The air was stagnant.

There was a table in the middle of the room and one chair. Three small bedrooms to her left, a kitchen and a bathroom to her right. That was it.

“Hello?” She called out softly. Silence greeted her back.

So long, she had not been here, but it would probably take a few thousand years to forget the place she once called home. She reached for the seat and sat. Staring out the window to a misty world beyond. Thinking of nothing, for a very long time.

As if I expect anyone to be here in this dusty old thing. Wait, Andy wanted me to come here. That’s right. I should tell him about the river.

She jumped over to the meadow that lead to Andy’s shop. She jumped down into the muddy puddle once again, without thinking if he would be open or shut. 

Luckily he was still open.

“Andy? The river. It isn’t happy that we’ve left it for so long. I think… it’s a bit lonely. Andy?”

Andy bounded out from behind somewhere in his maze of shelves in a royal purple robe. “What are you doing here? Do you know its seventeen minutes to closing time?”

“Oh… sorry, I honestly didn’t think about it. I was… back… at the old house, and I remembered that you wanted to me to see the river, then I wanted to leave fast, so I thought I go see you. That place really messes with you.”

“Why were you at the river? Did you finish looking for whatever it was you are looking for? The case you were on? Another missing child I believe?”

“What child?” Clover asked, rubbing her head, her wrists noticeably bare.