A Nymph of the Ossian Forest

The Preparation

Bathing in the early morning sun, the village started to wake up. The shutters of house windows flung open as I ran by. Trying to keep in shadow, I had to press myself into a bakery corner once, to avoid bumping into the baker's wife, who walked out to greet the milkman.

Bursting through the gates of our house, I quickly picked up a bucket of water by the barn, which I had prepared in good time. I opened the door deliberately loud and shouted so that everyone in the house would hear me.

"Mom! I brought water!" For a moment everything was silent; I even began to think I somehow mixed everything up and it was still too early. But then my mother came out of the room, her arms crossed over her chest.

For a countless time in my life, I wondered how beautiful she was, her pale skin shadowed by the dark of her hair. If not several silver locks on her head, you could never tell her from a young woman. Just like my father, she also played a very important role in the village, but if he was good at managing the village's daily life, she took upon herself the role of mother for each and everyone. A rare event could be held without her: she was there at every important moment of the village's lives. When someone was giving birth, or lying on deathbed, whenever someone needed advice they called for her. She was always there for them. It had crossed my mind several times that this was exactly what put silver threads in her hair and little wrinkles between her eyebrows. But on the other hand, that was what made her the Mother in a unique, beautiful way.

"You shouldn't bring water so early..." she said and winked at me, obviously amused to observe her daughter changing in the face. What a fool I was to suppose that I could trick her! However, there was still a greater danger; I looked around carefully to try to find out if my father had somehow spotted my absence.

"Your father is at the House of Gatherings," mother said, sparkles dancing in her blue eyes. "I told him to keep silent not to wake you up." I sighed in relief and put the bucket on the floor. Smiling, mother came to me and drew her arms around my shoulders. I hid my face in her hair, smooth and soft, breathing in such homely and familiar scent of lavender, that she seemed to always have to herself.

"What urged father to leave home so early?" I mumbled into her shoulder.

She smiled again, tearing a couple of burs off my sleeve – a reminder to me that next time I should be more careful cleaning myself up before returning to the village.

"Don't you remember what day is it today?"

I frowned. Umh, no.

My confused look told her the answer.

"It's the Sowing day, dear."

I couldn't help gulping nervously. Kyle's face when he said we could together after the Sowing day flashed in front of my eyes. I wondered if he had also forgotten today was the day of the big celebration. Luckily, back in the forest, he meant the Sowing day of the following year, as both of us were not still of the age to take part in it. But still, it made me feel uneasy. Kyle. Where was he now? I felt a strong punch of guilt. I almost forgot about him on my way home.

"Oh," the pause has stretched for too long; I knew I had to say something. "Yes, I forgot that it is today."

She gave me a surprised look. I knew that it was stupid of me because the Sowing day was one of the biggest celebrations of the year. The preparations for it must have been under way for already a week. At least. Memories of the last few days appeared in front of my eyes, creating a single picture: hunters spending all their time in the forest, much more often than usual; bakeries working with double force; not speaking of all the village women weaving and sewing. They were all preparing for the big feast of tonight. I was sure it had been on everyone's lips, one of the major topics for discussion among the villagers.