Mary-Cade Mandus - The Spell Bound

The liquid slipped cool and sweet over Torin’s tongue and down his throat as he drank long and deep from the well's complimentary water cup. His tastebuds tingled at the tantalizing hint of peach [passion fruit?]. Cup in hand, he propped against the well to enjoy the refreshment and the breathtaking view spread out before, behind and on either side. The Jack & Jill Memorial Well at the apex of Broken Crown Hill offered an excellent vantage point from which to survey the decadently ripe countryside.

Nearby Fortenbrass contentedly and noisily clipped the lush, silky grass. On the well roof, honing its hunting skills, the cat stalked a pair of succulent but totally unconcerned doves. In such an idyllic spot Torin could almost forget their present predicament. Almost. Reluctantly he relinquished the cup to the care of the well’s custodial ants, which immediately set about cleaning and disinfecting it. Whistling for his companions, Torin started down the steep slope to the road.