The edge of stream is filled with many species, willows silently bend into the water. They touch it silently with their leaves, stroke it and the stream gratefully moans her “Thank you. You are reliable.” She has always loved the smell of elderberry and she could already sense it under her nose, even though the season was about to come, not there yet.

She had run away from the nearby children’s camp, escaping the unpleasant atmosphere of greedy nuns and bullying children. Here she found peace and tranquillity; the river brought her a sense of calm and felt like a home away from home. Ira took a deep breath and regretted of not haven taken her sister with her. “I will do next time”, she calmed herself. A ladybird deftly climbed onto a blade of grass and then made its way over to a bellflower. She could clearly smell and see the stamens; their almost transparent light blue colour fascinated her. Her memory went back to a girl she had seen in a picture book who lived in a plant like that. Ira wished she was her.

With a start, she recalled yesterday morning, even though she wanted to forget it, erase it for good from her memory. Sister Benedicta had summoned them into the bathroom; Shirin was trembling in front of her. In her right hand the nun held a bloodstained sheet. She could see that Shirin’s eyes were red with tears. “How dare you”, the nun exclaimed. The girl stood with her head bowed before the angry nun. Ira looked at her own hands and realised that they were shaking. The other 10 girls were as quiet as mice. You could have heard a pin drop. Before Ira knew what was happening, she saw Sister Benedicta striking Shirin with the sheet: once, twice, three times... Ira tried to calm herself by counting. She could hardly breathe and felt both cold and hot. She then proceeded to counting the tiles and tried to keep a close eye on their edges. They were square, the inside of a radiant white. Three drops of blood had fallen onto a tile in the middle; Ira could hear Shirin sobbing loudly interrupted by the nun’s angry voice. She could not hear the words, just the tone.

The stream was flowing constantly and reliably, it washed away her worries and made her brain clear. Slowly and carefully, she put her left big toe into the water and hushed back. It was freezingly cold. However, it cleared her mind. My pocket money has gone down the river, but I do have support: My cute little sister is here. I need to protect her, stream. Please provide me with your strength. Course, I will.

I will give you all my gratitude.

The stream continued flowing, over branches, over leaves and over flowers of different colours. She was happy that spring had finally sprung.