The River That Flows Backwards

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Koru sat by the jungle's edge, sorting smooth pebbles into neat piles. He loved patterns - big stones here, round ones there, flat ones in perfect rows. The morning mist drifted between the trees like silk scarves. Suddenly, all his pebbles rolled away. Not downhill, not toward the jungle - but sideways, as if pulled by invisible fingers. They tumbled through the grass, leaving tiny trails in the dew. "How strange," Koru muttered, his thick fingers tracing the pebble paths. The trails all led the same direction - toward a sound he'd never heard before. Not quite water, not quite wind. Something in between.

Following the pebble trails, Koru pushed through curtains of hanging moss. The strange sound grew louder - a backwards whisper, like someone inhaling words instead of speaking them. There, between two ancient trees, flowed a river unlike any he'd seen. The water moved slowly, carrying leaves and twigs upstream instead of down. Mist rose from its surface in spirals, twisting into shapes that almost looked like... letters? "What kind of river flows the wrong way?" Koru wondered aloud. As soon as he spoke, the river paused. The water held perfectly still for three heartbeats, then began flowing the normal direction. The mist letters dissolved.