Mira did not normally chase moonlit rumours. But when the ferryman at Glassroot mentioned an owl-shaped buoy that blinked green at midnight, she packed quiet oars and a thermos anyway.
The green on the water
The owl buoy floated alone where the channel widened. It was carved from wood, round-eyed and small enough that Mira could have lifted it with one hand. Yet it gave off a soft green halo that travelled far across the dark water.
She did not touch it. Instead, she let the skiff drift a respectful distance away and watched the moon make a bright road between the boat and the buoy. A striped fish broke the surface once, then vanished without a sound.
Second bell
Somewhere inland, a bell rang. Mira waited. The channel stayed quiet until the sound came again, lower this time. The owl buoy’s green halo brightened, and the fish rose just beside it, looking more surprised than hungry.
Mira played out the glow float with almost no cast at all. The fish took the bait on the pause, then raced along the moon road. Mira laughed only after it turned, because some moments are too strange to keep serious.
The buoy keeps watch
The fish slipped back below the dark water after a gentle release. Mira rowed away without looking back, but the green halo stayed at the edge of her sight until the bend took it.
In the morning she told no one the exact channel. A night marker has work to do. It does not need a crowd.
“Not every bright thing asks to be taken home.”
Back at the map table, Mira added one small mark to the page, dried the gear and left the next question for another morning. The Driftglass Delta was never short of clues. It only asked that people make space to notice them.
The Silent Slipway
At the abandoned slipway, fog hid the waterline — but a quiet giant was still following it home.
Follow the next bend →