Free Enchantment by Pati Nagle

Saturday afternoon, and not having had the forethought to apply for a permit to leave town, I hiked up the mountain instead.
    I could tell when I was getting close to the spring because the bushes grew thicker and more lush, and the ground became spongy and damp. I had to push my way through a thicket of scrub oak to find the spring itself, which seemed such a tiny pool of water. Looks are deceiving, however. That small pool fed a large thicket and nurtured many birds and animals. Enchantment was exactly the right name.
    Holly paused, glancing up at the pots of flowers all around, trying to visualize the spring surrounded by such lushness. She wished she could have seen it. There were a few bushes and plants now, but nothing like Amanda described.
    Where did the water go now? That awful concrete coffin held some of it, but the spring was constantly flowing. The water must drain off somewhere. It wasn’t going into the ground any more; there was no sponginess, no thicket hiding the spring. Maybe it was getting piped away. Frowning, she went back to the book.

    Here is a story about Enchantment Spring. It may or may not be true.
    Long ago on the mesa there was a village. One hot summer the village well went dry, and the people had to go up to the spring for water. Every morning they brought their jars and filled them, then carried them back to the village.
    One day a maiden was late going up with her water jar. She was the last to leave the village, and on her way up the trail she passed other villagers coming down, their jars full and sloshing. She worried the spring would not have enough water left to fill her jar.
    When she reached the spring all the others had gone. Kneeling by the pool, she laid her jar on its side in the water, but it was not deep enough to reach the mouth. The spring was flowing, but slowly. It would take time to fill the pool again. She had not brought a dipper gourd with her, so she could not fill her jar that way.
    She wept, fearing her mother’s anger. Her tears fell into the spring, and then a miracle happened.
    Her jar sank into the pool and disappeared completely. A moment later it rose out again, upright and filled with sparkling water. The maiden picked it up, marveling, then set it safely on the ground beside the pool.
    â€œThank you!” she said. “Thank you spirit of the spring!”
    And the spirit answered. He rose out of the pool, pale and beautiful, clad in fabric like rippling water. His smile was warm as sunshine.
    â€œI have been waiting for you,” he said.
    Holly snapped the book shut. Her breaths came short and fast. She could hardly believe it, but there was only one explanation.
    Amanda had met Ohlan.

~ 6 ~

    Holly got up and started pacing the patio. Her feelings were all in a jumble. Excitement, because Amanda’s story confirmed Ohlan’s existence. Frustration, because she couldn’t show it to Mad as proof; it was phrased like a legend, though she suspected Amanda had just made it up.
    There was no village maiden, and no water jar. Amanda was really talking about herself. Holly was sure of it.
    And that made her jealous.
    She glared at the book, lying on the chair where she’d left it. Stupid to think she was the only one who’d ever discovered Ohlan. He had told her himself there were others. She’d asked if he’d been in love and he’d said he had.
    She closed her eyes. This was crazy. She shouldn’t let it get to her like this. She’d kind of fallen for Ohlan.
    OK, not kind of. She’d fallen for him, hard.
    But he wasn’t human. He couldn’t leave the spring. What kind of a relationship could he offer her, really?
    Sighing, she returned to her chair and picked up the book. She had to read more; had to find out the rest about Ohlan and Amanda, though she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.
    She sat down and found the page she’d been on. There wasn’t a lot more to the “story”