Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine.

A Well of Living Water

Once, long ago now, a small girl dreamed of nothing but water. Other children would tell tales of dreams that held sun and rabbits and darkness and cellars and blood, but her dreams were always full only of water. Water that rushed over her and held her, and seemed to be alive and loving. Sometimes she stood out in the rain and stared above, looking for something she found herself missing, though she did not remember having had it, or even what it was.

She grew older, and the dreams receded, and her mother found her out in the rain one night and made her promise never to do that again, you could catch your death of cold and then where would your father and I be? And so she dreamt of other things. In time she forgot that her dreams had ever been anything but an ordinary girl's.

But you never really forget anything, once you know it. It's always there, if you only go looking again. It will come back, if you need it and wish for its return.

The girl came to a bath house, hiding in mists and in water, and needed the dreams and the knowledge that came with them to save what and who she loved, and so she called, and they came, and she named the boy that she knew from so long ago.

And this is true. And this is also true, she left that place, and did not forget, this time, and never would come in out of the rain when her mother called. And this time, when she stood in the rain it was not because she was looking for what was lost, but because she understood that the rain was a gift to her. A lover's token of remembrance, of care, of a love that was too much to understand, but needed no understanding.

The girl grew. Her knowledge became broader, and her hips curved and her breasts bloomed, and the flatness of her stomach rounded itself into an irresistible curve, and her legs stretched longer and longer, and her body woke to new things. She walked the woods and waded in streams, and sat in storms all night long, cold, but so in love that she could not leave. She swam, and reveled in the touch of the water, though it was not him, and she had only the memory of what had been, for time passes differently in the spirit's world, and there were many things he had to do.

The time came when he returned, and she shivered to find that the rain down her back was his hands in her hair, and his lips on hers, and his breath over her skin. She laughed and she loved and she dreamed, and the other girls wondered why she did not worry about soaking her clothes and why she never looked at the boys (and, sometimes, girls) who looked at her. She danced in the rain and sought her dreams eagerly, because when she dreamed than he was there. It didn't matter what he was, dragon, boy, water, god, he was who he was, and she loved him and he loved her.

She took her exams, and went to college, and made her work taking care of the world that she found she cared about so much. In the day she stood before the court and argued on behalf of the rivers and streams and wild places. In the evening she walked home in the rain without an umbrella. At night she dreamt, and went anywhere she pleased with her love.

She met many gods and demons and other such things as she labored to repair the land. All of them knew her, all of them had heard of the human girl a river spirit loved. All of them could see his mark on her, shining too bright in her eyes. None tried to harm her. Her love was well known, and known to be dangerous when roused.

She lived, and she worked, and she loved, and she never would stay out of the rain.