A tiny pebble, grey and perfectly round in her hand. It was a beautiful thing she found.

The same walk as always. Almost always. Sometimes she changed, but mostly it was this walk because she couldn’t resist seeing what was different on the path. There was always something different. New ferns, or wildflowers, and sometimes they were strange and interesting. A bees’ nest. Once in a while, people rearranged the path, or the rocks over the water. She needed to see.

The pebble went unnoticed until she kicked it. It tumbled into the water, that little bit of water that sometimes was a wider pool of muck. The stones to cross over it were neat, someone had fixed them, and the pebble landed near the crossing and glowed. It glowed through the water in a way it hadn’t done before. She stared.

You weren’t supposed to take things from here.