I sighed. “I know, Mirra, I wasn’t going to peek.” Although, that’s exactly what I had been trying to do.
She smirked, took a swig of her mead, and skipped away.
I watched them all, gathered to dance, drink, and watch me stick my hand through a hole in the standing stone. It made me absurdly happy and I wondered what the boy on the other side was feeling.
I would know soon enough, when the druids decided it was time for me to look through the Holed Stone.
They wouldn’t ask what I saw and I wasn’t sure if that was because they considered it private or because they already knew. I took a sip of my drink and relaxed at the sweet, honeyed flavor.
I didn’t notice Mirra was by my side until I felt her breath on my neck. She whispered, “It’s time.” The silence around me now was thick. I knew they were waiting, watching. My life was about to change.
Placing my forehead on the rough sandstone, I gazed through the hole.
“Well?” Mirra tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“Water,” I smiled. I had seen rain on this sunny, summer’s day. She nodded and kissed me on the cheek. “He did, as well.”
I slipped my hand through the hole and felt warm, calloused fingers find mine and grasp them.
My #writephoto, a weekly writing prompt for poetry/flash/short stories hosted by Sue Vincent