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She offers me the piece of paper and I take into my hands. I unfold it. Then, I start reading. It explains exactly where we should go to find the well.
“The old willow tree?” I say out loud trying to figure out what exactly the author meant when he or she said the old willow tree.
“It has to be some specific tree,” Bianca points out.
“Mhm,” I nod. “Who knows if it’s still standing.”
“Any ideas?” she wonders.
“I have to think,” I tell her.
Then, I realize that we are out, in plain sight. Someone might see us.
“We should go back inside,” I suggest. “Just in case a wandering person might see us and inform the other shifters where we are.”
She agrees, so we go into the factory building. I turn on my flashlight, looking at the piece of paper in my hand. It is all stained yellow from old age, but the words are still legible. I read it again, silently, in hopes that it might jog my memory. But still, nothing happens. I can’t think of any specific willow trees mentioned in any old scrolls that I’ve ever read.
“No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember anything,” I admit with a heavy sigh.
I rack my brain, and no matter how much I push it, there is nothing that rings a bell. At that point, Bianca remembers something.
“What about some old songs?” she asks, her voice lifting slightly at the last syllable.
“Old songs?” I repeat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, songs like the ones your mom used to sing to you, or maybe your grandma,” she explains. “Old lullabies that maybe talk about hidden places, trees, wells, something like that.”
“I’m not– “ I say, but instantly, the moment she mentions it, a song pops to mind.
Sleep my baby, close your eyes,
Momma’s here, so don’t you cry.
The sun is setting, the day is gone,
I see you tired, I see you yawn.
The woods all sleep, so should you,
Throughout the night, till the day is new.
If you are thirsty, in the morn,
There is a well, hidden by thorns.
A willow hides it, from plain sight,
And it will restore all your might.
But beware, it’s not for common folk,
All sorts of mischief it may evoke.
Five berries you need to take, too,
And they may make you a little blue.
For now, my darling, don’t you fret,
