Page 1 of Ruling the Green

CHAPTER ONE

Serin

A dragonfly flirted with the water, skipping like a stone across the surface before taking flight on gossamer wings that reflected like stained glass in the early morning light.

My bones felt weighted and sluggish as I made my way toward the edge of the lake. The water called to me—a shivering sensation that moved down my spine, begging me closer, promising to ease the aches and pains assaulting every inch of my body from being away for too long.

“Hello,” I cooed to a little frog sitting on a lily pad, watching the surface of the water for his breakfast.

He looked over but didn’t startle or hop off.

We were old friends, the frogs and I.

They lived in my lake after all.

“I wouldn’t try it,” I warned as the dragonfly dove downward near him. “He’s way too big for you.”

I dipped my feet into the lake, feeling the cool water tease my ankles, feeling it sing in my veins, chasing away the soreness in my soles from the long walk over twigs and rocks and brambles all night.

Just before dusk, a sweet little duckling had gotten itself tangled in some vines at the edge of the lake. His duck family hadn’t realized and had taken off without him.

By the time I’d gotten the sweet thing untangled, his family was long gone and I’d needed to search the woods for hours to find them.

I slipped deeper into the water, my pale green dress billowing around my body as I walked out until the ground fell away, then let myself slip under.

Vitality spread through me, making the exhaustion that had been tugging at my bones, weighing on my eyes, slowly slip away.

Surfacing, I lay back on the surface, watching the sun dapple through the trees, warming my face.

The water rippled beside me, making me turn to see a snake wiggling through the water. The frog, giving up on breakfast, smartly hopped back to the land and disappeared.

At the bank, a fawn moved out of a clearing and lowered her lips to the water, drinking long after a night without.

The early mornings at my lake were my favorite, watching the wildlife come alive, drawn toward my water, knowing it would help sustain them.

I had no memory of coming here myself, of my origins. I just knew I’d always been here. Connected to the water. Blessed to have it nourish me.

There were days, back when curiosity got the worst of me, that I tried to venture away, wondering what else there might be in the world. But with each mile I trekked, I felt myself wasting away. I would return, angry and bitter to be drained.

But the years had erased my restlessness, had softened me, shown me the beauty of my home.

I couldn’t imagine leaving for more than just a few moments.

Below me, I felt a tug. One of the fish mistaking my dress for food.

With a smile, I lowered back under the surface, flipping over to watch all the life moving beneath me.

A pretty green bass swam up toward me.

But before he could get close, I felt it.

Them.

I felt them.

Hands reaching down.

Hands sinking in.