Rina the River and the Children of Willowmere

Chapter 1: A river that gets polluted and asks the children for help

In a green valley called Willowmere, a river wound its way from the high mountains down to the sea. Her name was Rina, and she had been flowing for so long that she had forgotten how to count the years.

Rina was a cheerful river. She giggled over smooth stones, gurgled under the old wooden bridge, and swirled in lazy circles around the willow roots. Silver fish darted through her currents. Dragonflies skimmed her surface. Otters slid down her banks, and every summer, the children of Willowmere splashed in her shallows, shrieking with laughter.

"What a happy life," Rina would hum. "Everyone I touch, I help."

But slowly, something began to change.

It started with a single plastic bottle bobbing past her. Then a candy wrapper. Then a soggy bag snagged on a branch. Farther upstream, a factory began pouring a murky, oily liquid into her waters, and the runoff from a farm sent a pale, foamy scum swirling along her banks.

Rina's water, once clear as glass, turned cloudy and brown. A strange smell rose from her surface. The silver fish grew fewer. The dragonflies stopped visiting. The otters moved away.

"I don't feel well," Rina whispered. Her voice, once a bubbling song, had become a tired, raspy murmur. "I want to help, but I'm so heavy and sick."

The children of Willowmere noticed too.

"Ew, the river smells funny," said Tomás, holding his nose.

"There's a shoe floating in it," said Mei, pointing. "A whole shoe!"