A Clack in the Silt

A dry, chalky reed drifted toward my corner, propelled by a quiet eddy from the deeper pool. The little translucent slime bobbed beside it, poking at the hollow stem with its jelly fringe. The reed dipped and poked directly into my side cutout. I did not shove it away. Pivoting gently on one stone edge, I pressed down against the sandy silt, wedging the reed flat against a smooth quartz pebble. The bobbing stopped. My inner amber core hummed, warming the pale stem into a soft, glowing yellow rod. The slime rested its chin against the reed, calm and still.