The formerly pristine garden was a field of mud, splintered wood and broken pavement. Ignoring the cold, John swathed through the swampy ground, his expensive shoes sinking deep into the mud. His socks were drenched after two steps, splatters of dirty water sprinkled over his suit pants.
None of that mattered, only Undine did. Before John even got there, the water spirit had assumed a new form. This time it was not cause for concern. Undine had become a blob, an elliptic, skipping stone shaped blob. John looked her over and saw a series of swirling red lines where the corruption had befallen her. He wondered whether these were supposed to be there from the transformation or an elemental type of scar tissue.
The curiosity about this competed with how livid he was. John felt a confusing mixture of emotion right now: relief, worry, anger, a sort of comedic disbelief, and the overarching euphoria of having overcome yet another terrible incident.
