Two weeks later,
She leaned out on her tiptoes and peered into the river. She could see blue, purple and green stones sparkling on the bottom like crystals, coloring the water like a wine goblet.
She knelt, dipping a finger in the water. It was ice cold. Her teeth ached at the thought of wading in.
But she’d come too far to turn back now.
Her hand didn’t change colors. But if it was blueberry stain, it would take the soap to do that.
She pulled out the soap, dipped it in the water and began scrubbing her hands vigorously.
Her hands started to foam. First, white with soap suds.
Then the suds turns a faint lavendar, a bluish lilac that grew a darker and darker blue, until it was almost indigo.
She dipped her hands back in the river.
They came up a sugary white.
She bent over and peered in the still, water and studied her reflection. Blue eyes shining out of a dark blue face. Black hair with a bluish tinge. From blueberries?
What would she look like if….
She took a deep breath, stripped off the ragged blue dress and dove into the frigid water.
She wasn’t prepared for the icy shock as the water closed over her head. She came up gasping and grasped the bar of soap. Then she started scrubbing before her limbs froze to numbness.
She had mixed feeling as she watched the blue stain disappear and the white skin began to shine through. It was a delightful feeling, as if she’d never been truly clean befo. But she also felt like she was losing a very dear part of herself. Something she had always identified herself by, now slipping away with the scrubbing of a bit of soap.
Who was she? Had she come from the White Isle? How did she come here?
And what did Grandfather know about it all?