HOCKETY, POCKETY, WOCKETY, WACK
Weir hadn’t yet visited the hills, well the ones that housed the pool. The place that was gifted to the Dale by the fairies, the magical entity of sorts. He had heard from the others, where it was, what it did; yet he hadn’t gone there. He went everywhere but there, even when he had been avoiding everyone dealing with his grief. Taken the long way around it, no matter how out of the way it was. He told himself that he was too busy, that there were more important matters at hand, he told himself these things so that he would not have to go. He didn’t know what he would see there, didn’t know if he wanted to know. Of course he was curious, as he always was, but he wasn’t sure he could face it. His soul.
Was he something unexpected inside? Something he would not wish to see, to accept? All questions without answers, and slowly these thoughts tugged at him.
It had been hard, do not mistake that, for him to stay away. He was a curious creature, he enjoyed new discoveries, new information. He enjoyed very much to have these things on hand, things he could pluck at with his thoughts to aid or assist him in some way. This one though, this pool of souls he would call it, it worried him. Mostly because he didn’t know what he would find there, it could be any multitude of things, endless combinations to a lock. Perhaps something he expected, maybe it would be something he did not anticipate, some part of him he had not yet come to terms with. Did not yet recognize within himself. Today though, he gave in, he had decided it was time. So against the snow he trudged, making his slow way towards the hills.
It was decent enough today for the trip, the snow was not blowing ice against his skin. The sun did its best to shine through the cloud cover, which helped to warm him, along with his winter coat.