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Rated: E · Fiction · Fantasy · #1859943
Intended to be part of a series. The spirits of folklore.
"Travellers beware," the signs all read and yet amongst the lilies of the rippling pool surfaced a young girl. The pool lay just out of sight from the main track through the woods but few ventured towards its sparkling waters.
The young woman relaxed floating on the surface as she watched the clouds roll by. Her clear blue eyes reflected the brilliant colour of the sky as it smiled down upon her pale soft skin. Her time in the water had not yet wrinkled her blemish free complexion.
The peaceful lapping of the water was disturbed as a young man stumbled wearily into the corner of her vision. She sat up in the water, it stroked through her dark hair which shone nearly navy blue in the light. The pair watched each other cautiously.
"I don't think you should be in there," the man with brown curls swept over his hazel eyes called to the woman.
"But it's so cool and refreshing," came her cheerful reply apparently unconcerned by any unseen danger.

The man paused obviously tempted by the strikingly beautiful woman and the promised relief from the heat of the day. Yet all the signs warned of danger beneath the crystal waters.
"Who put these signs here?" he asked inspecting the aging planks with their warnings scrawled in flaking yellow paint.
"Locals who don't want to share this beautiful pond," the woman dipped beneath the surface before reappearing and shaking the droplets from her beautiful face, "won't you join me?"
Her reply seemed to satisfy the man, or her offer too tempting to refuse, for he stripped off his shirt and approached the water's edge. With a blush he averted his eyes to the tree line as he realised through the clear depths that the young woman wore nothing. In reply the woman showed no shame but rather, she giggled in amusement.
"Forgive me, I didn't realise," the man stuttered.
The young woman stood with the water lapping at her ankles and her hand out to the man.
"There's nothing to forgive, except that you haven't told me your name yet."
"Jonathan," was his bashful response as he took her hand.

His eyes met hers and in silence she led him to the deepest of the pools depths.
"What is your name?" Jonathan asked in almost a whisper as if speaking too loud could break the peace.
Her eyes kept him entranced as she leant in closer.
"Fuath" the woman replied.

Her gentle smile suddenly became wicked as she wraps her arms around the man. Before he could struggle or make a noise, her lips were pressed to his.

In the deadly kiss the man could feel his lungs filling with water. Fauth stayed locked with Jonathon as the pair sunk beneath the surface of the beautiful pool. Every gasp for air only drew more water into the young man's lungs. Finally Jonathon had kicked his last kick and stared up at the peaceful surface so far above.

Fauth surfaced with a joyful grin. The thrill and strength of her latest victim surged through her veins to last her until the next poor soul would fall prey to the charms of her pond. Travellers beware; water sprites are cunning and hide behind the most deceptive guises.
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