𝕻𝖔𝖊𝖙𝖊𝖘𝖘 - (Wilbur)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒

Days had passed. And for every single sunrise, Inka met with Wilbur, both talking about whatever came to mind while also looking for ideas for the song. Inka truly struggled with what the song could have; his previous ideas had so much potential but his ideas which he forced himself to think of were stuck feeling shallow and void of any life. But she tried with what he had, and though they weren't great, they were better than nothing.

"I do like to think that you've better ideas than walking away and describing someone new." Inka sighed while reading the sparsely expanded notes. Wilbur, who strummed his guitar, sat on his rock and looked at the notes with a hollow feeling.

"I think it's because I lack experience. Not in songwriting but in what is happening in these ideas." He excused and put his guitar down, Inka rested her head on the floor and looked up at Wilbur.

"Sure... I can't say I've seen any of these places." She agreed and let her fingers run across the paper. Wilbur nodded and continued to play with his fingers.

Inka had spent no time out in the village, nor had she explored further than the whole forest - which in itself was a sizable fraction of the land. All the talk she had seen of fields of flowers and beaches and whatever a restaurant was, she hadn't seen any of it. Though they did sound pretty - the flower fields she could imagine; it wasn't hard to think of a large expanse of flora for the eye to see. A beach however, that was up to her imagination to wonder what it was. As Wilbur ate his piece of bread, Inka imagined what it could have been before her companion suddenly coughed slightly. Looking up at him, he was staring right back at her, shocked and confused. More of a state of disbelief.

"Sorry... I was just thinking of something." He excused and patted his own back to ease the ache that came with choking. She nodded and continued looking at the poor progression of notes. Such slow progress - she knew for a fact that he wrote quicker when she wasn't around, it made her feel partially guilty to want to outdo that woman, for the sake of Wilbur. It felt too intrusive, especially if she did it on purpose.

With small muttering between them of ideas and disagreeing, they found that with such fine points, oddly specific, they would get nowhere. Inka simply wasn't skilled enough to find and project a message so specific with rhythm and syllables.

Eventually, Inka found an idea she was quite fond with, and perked up with slight excitement, "what if you write a song about how you want to write a song about these things," she circled everything crossed out, "but you can't because it's too hard," offered Inka, to Wilbur who slid off the rock and onto his knees to join Inka.

"What if we write about those ideas and how I can't do them anymore; it won't feel the same?" Wilbur asked and she gasped, nodding quickly as with a smile pulling across Wilbur's countenance, he wrote it down. With a cheer at progress, Wilbur rewrote everything he had there. Fighting for them, going to the beach and the flower field, buying gifts and how none of it felt the same. They crossed out some of the ideas they didn't like - the "spending hours together" could be with anyone and it wasn't rhythmically fitting. And then, they had to part ways.

Wilbur packed up his things as it went six increments past noon, and he hugged Inka happily, engulfing her in his larger form happily. She hugged back merrily and bounced in excitement as they shared the moment - then Wilbur pushed away and waved goodbye, allowing Inka to return to where she often stayed.

Venturing away from the spot, she travelled a distance by the stream until she ran into the spring. The spring was a few rocks letting underground water escape, it had formed the stream in its early days but soon the stream was fed with rainwater, ultimately making the river what it was. Within the rocks, grey and black with a plush layer of moss growing on them; there was an opening not far, it was west from the spring and there, Inka would meet with a naiad. A very good friend of hers. Her name was Sally. That was what she liked to be called at least. She had long, red hair like Inka, it flowed and felt like water. She also had fins where her ears were and dark eyes. They spent their time together because of how similar they looked; often going to strange places together or when met with other nymphs and naiads, were mistaken as sisters. But they weren't. They were friends who ended up living together since they both liked where they were. Sally slept within the spring, slipping into a hole to the inside where the body of water was. That was while Inka elected to sleep within the bush which covered that opening to the spring. That way they were close and if someone were close by, both were safe. Sally more so since she could breathe underwater.