 | Spite picked up the pillow that the Wishing Well had thrown at her and holding the mirror in the other hand, started flitting and flying down the trail. "It isn't every day one gets a mirror - let alone a pillow from a Well," thought Spite as she struggled to carry her new possessions while trying not to fly into a tree as she flitted down the trail. |
She hadn't gotten that far before her tummy started rumbling. "It must be noon," she realized as Spite knew her stomach like clockwork. Noon is also the magical time between time, when the morning is leaving and the afternoon beginning.
| Spite found a perfect spot to land and started to grab a small meal out of the berries that surrounded her when she noticed the mirror starting to glow. Setting the berries aside, she picked up the mirror and peered into it. With the glow her appearance was fuzzy and distorted like a carnival mirror she once saw through a portal into the Outie's world. As she continued to look, she started to feel a laugh in her tummy which passed her lips until it burst forth as a chuckle. The chuckle flew on the winds to spread out to the trees and beyond. Shortly, she heard a slight chuckle come back to her ears. So she laughed a little harder and again heard her chuckle flying out and return, just like an echo. |  |
Amazed on hearing her laughter echoing in this small glen, she looked harder into the mirror. It glowed brighter and suddenly she felt she should ask it a question.
 | "Oh Mirror of the Well, is this my name? Please do tell." (After all, one must be polite in talking to magical mirrors in the magical rhyme.) As the echoed laughter finally quieted she heard a voice that said, "Why are you talking so funny? You must be spending too much time at the Wishing Well. To answer your question though, this echo is a part of who you are. Laughter is your power. You can see how it spreads out to return to you three times fold. But it isn't your name. Look deeper into the mirror little Spite. Look deeper into your soul." |
So Spite did and as she concentrated, the sound of the word "Sprigg'n" popped into her head. "What the muddle puddle is that suppose to mean to me? Is this just a game - how can this word be my name?"
The Mirror let out a deep sigh and continued, "Sprigging is a process. It is where the handles, spouts and embellishments are added to earthenware. You know those fancy cups that Dewin likes to drink out of with the dragon handles? To add that to his cup is called sprigging. Just like sprigging, your laughter lightens a person's burden, makes them easier to carry and embellishes the goodness in the world. So now see yourself, Sprigg'n Mac-talla ('mac-talla' is echo in Gaelic), as laughter in the wind embellishes the world so will yours. This is the name you will carry with you now," intoned the Mirror as it's magical glow faded.
Humbled, the Spite sat and silently repeated her new name. "Sprigg'n Mac-talla," she finally said laughing aloud. "The mirror not only gave me a first name, I now have two!"
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