Time moved quietly around Merlin.
The days grew shorter, the mornings colder. Dew turned into frost, clinging to leaves and grass like fragile glass. The fields near the village lost their color, greens fading into dull browns as the crops withered and died. Trees shed their leaves, and the wind carried a sharp bite that hadn't been there before.
Winter was coming.
At least, that was what Merlin believed.
By now, he was fully used to his new life. The medieval world no longer felt strange or overwhelming. The rough clothes, the simple food, the lack of comfort—none of it shocked him anymore. It had become normal.
His magic had grown along with that acceptance.
What once required intense focus now came almost effortlessly. Merlin could levitate objects smoothly, guide them through the air with precision, stop them mid-motion, send them spinning or gliding exactly where he wanted. Stones, sticks, bundles of herbs, he practiced with anything he could find.
And the more he practiced, the clearer the pattern became.
Magic without a wand, the way he used it, worked like a muscle.
The more he trained, the stronger it became.
The stronger it became, the easier it was to use.
Control replaced strain and flow replaced force.
There were still limits, though.
He hadn't tried transfiguration, not even once. The idea of reshaping matter without proper guidance made his stomach twist.
One mistake could hurt him…or worse, hurt Leith or his mom. So he set it aside, promising himself he would return to it when he understood magic better.
For now, caution mattered more than curiosity.
As the land around him continued to die back, Merlin noticed something else, something that worried him far more than his own progress.
With fewer plants growing, his mother had fewer ingredients.
Fewer ingredients meant fewer medicines.
And fewer medicines meant fewer people to trade.
And winter was cruel to those who weren't prepared.
Merlin didn't want to imagine what would happen if they ran out of supplies. He had lived one life already, he wasn't about to let this one be defined by helplessness.
So one cold afternoon, with his breath fogging the air, Merlin made a decision.
He grabbed his small leather pouch and headed toward the familiar clearing by the lake.
This time, though, he wasn't going there to train. He had an idea.
The sky was heavy and gray, as if the whole world were holding its breath.
Merlin reached the edge of the lake and brought two fingers to his mouth, whistling a loud, sharp sound that cut through the cold air. The echo barely had time to fade before the surface of the water began to stir. Ripples formed in gentle circles at first, then grew stronger.
Then Leith emerged.
What had once been a small, timid kelpie, barely reaching half of Merlin's height, had grown.
Over the months, his body had become longer and stronger, now reaching about one and a half times the boy's size. His dark green skin reflected the dull light of the cloudy day, with bluish and silvery tones running through the wet scales.
His watery mane flowed like living algae, moving even when his body was still, dripping water back into the lake.
Merlin smiled instantly.
"Hey, buddy…" he said softly.
He approached without hurry and ran his hand through Leith's cold mane. The kelpie answered with a soft, pleased whinny, lowering his head to make the petting easier.
The creature seemed to especially enjoy it when Merlin scratched the base of his mane, and this time was no different.
"I'm going to need your help today," Merlin continued, speaking naturally, as if he were talking to another child.
Leith lifted his head and looked at him. There was attention there, understanding. He was listening.
Merlin explained with simple words and gestures. He said he needed Leith to scare some of the fish, guiding them closer to the shore of the lake where Merlin could reach them. He didn't want to hurt anyone or draw attention. He just needed things to be a little easier.
For a moment, Leith simply watched him.
Then, in an unexpectedly affectionate gesture, the kelpie pressed his large, wet muzzle against Merlin's chest, gently, like a silent hug. The boy let out a quiet laugh, surprised, and placed his hand on the creature's head.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Without further delay, Leith turned and dove back into the cold water. His body vanished beneath the surface with ease, leaving only ripples spreading across the lake.
Merlin stayed there, watching, feeling the cold wind against his face.
Now all he had to do was wait.
Merlin waited for a few minutes, standing still at the edge of the lake, listening to the wind and watching the gray surface of the water.
Then it started.
A sudden explosion of sound broke the quiet—water splashing violently, as if the lake itself had come alive. One after another, fish began leaping out of the water, silver bodies flashing as they desperately swam toward the shore where Merlin stood. Thousands of droplets were thrown into the air, catching the dull light of the sky and turning it into a chaotic shimmer.
The disturbance moved closer and closer to the edge of the lake before finally stopping just short of the shore. Even then, the fish continued to jump and thrash in panic, trying to escape.
Beneath the surface, Leith was still there.
Merlin could see his shadow moving through the water, circling the school of fish, guiding them and cutting off their escape routes, just like a shepherd dog herding sheep. Every time the fish tried to scatter, the movement below forced them back together.
Merlin grinned.
"Thank you ! Keep them there !" he shouted toward the lake.
Raising his hand, he focused. One by one, five fish slowly lifted out of the water, wriggling and twisting in midair. With careful movements of his hand, Merlin guided them onto dry land, where they landed with dull thuds, still fighting for their lives.
He reached into the small leather pouch at his waist and pulled out a thin but strong line he had traded for at the village market. Kneeling down, he quickly began tying the fish by their mouths, making a bundle that would be easier to carry.
He repeated the process twice more, levitating more fish from the lake and binding them together. By the time he stopped, satisfied, he had caught eleven fish in total, some large, some small.
With a sharp whistle, Merlin signaled again.
Leith's head broke the surface of the water, droplets cascading down his mane. Merlin smiled at him.
"You can let the rest go."
As if understanding immediately, Leith stopped circling the remaining fish. Freed from the pressure, they scattered at once, disappearing into the deeper parts of the lake as fast as they could.
Merlin picked up one fish he had set aside and tossed it toward Leith. The kelpie snapped it out of the air with perfect timing and swallowed it whole in a single motion.
Laughing, Merlin walked closer to the water's edge.
"Thanks for the help," he said sincerely.
Leith answered by leaning forward and licking Merlin's face with his large, slimy, foul-smelling tongue.
"Ugh ! Leith !" Merlin protested, stumbling back as he laughed and gagged at the same time.
He hurriedly splashed water from the lake onto his face, trying to wash away the smell, while Leith let out a pleased whinny, clearly proud of himself.
—-
Merlin arrived home with the fish tied together and slung over his shoulder, the weight pulling slightly at his small frame.
Freya looked up from a book she was reading while sitting near the fireplace as soon as he stepped inside, her eyes widening in confusion.
"Merlin…?" she said slowly. "How did you manage to get so many fish ? We don't have enough things to trade for all of that."
Merlin laughed lightly. "I caught them."
That only made her more confused.
"Caught them ?" she repeated. "But you don't even have a fishing rod. How did you catch fish ?"
Smiling, Merlin reached into his small leather pouch and pulled out a short piece of wood with several meters of thin line neatly wrapped around it. He held it up proudly.
"I got the line in a trade yesterday," he explained. "I use it to fish. I found a really good spot where the fish bite the bait easily."
Freya studied him for a long moment, clearly trying to make sense of it all. Then she stepped closer and asked softly, "Why did you catch so many ?"
Merlin hesitated for just a second before answering.
"Some are for us to eat," he said. "But the others…we can trade them."
His expression turned a little more serious.
"Winter is coming," he continued. "The herbs will stop growing soon. If I bring fish, we can trade them for supplies and get through the winter more easily."
Freya froze.
She hadn't realized how much her son had been thinking about their situation. Guilt washed over her at the thought that Merlin felt responsible for helping them survive.
Without saying a word, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him.
"You didn't need to worry about that," she said softly, holding him close. "I would have found a way to take care of us through the winter."
"I know," Merlin replied gently. "I just… wanted to help. This was the way I found."
Freya pulled back slightly, a small, tender smile on her face, and kissed Merlin on the forehead.
Taking the fish from his shoulder, she said, "Go clean yourself up. I'll prepare something for you to eat."
Feeling warm and satisfied, Merlin nodded, and happily did just that.