One midday, in early March, Spring was well on its way and in a small village, backing onto a river, was an old cottage. Behind this cottage, wandering aimlessly around in the garden enjoying the breeze of a premature Summer, was a young boy. The boy here, William, was bored of his small village. There wasn't a lot to do. What there was he had already done time and time again, so thus often spent his days not at school wandering around the garden with no one but his imagination and the animals.
He slowly made his way to the river bank and sat down with his feet (bare, nonetheless, God forbid he should get his shoes as wet as last time) dipping in the crystal clear shallow water. The air was warm, but jubilant. The water that was racing over the stones and his toes (it was so fast, it might have been tripping over itself if it were to have feet of its own) was refreshingly chilly, William found, as he pi