Driftwood Morrow and the Stillwater Truth

Most Rangers traveled fast. Driftwood Morrow didn’t.He moved like a slow tide rolling through the cypress roots — steady, grounded, and impossible to rush. His bluesy voice was smooth as worn driftwood, and when he spoke, the swamp itself seemed to settle.

One humid evening, the Empire called Driftwood to Stillwater Bend, a place known for peace… until today. A heated disagreement had broken out between two long-time friends, Bitterbrush Otter and Lowbranch Toad. Their argument echoed across the water, sharp enough to startle birds from trees.

When Driftwood arrived, the air was thick with emotions that weren’t being said outright — frustration, fear, pride, misunderstanding. He could feel all of it tugging like tangled vines.

Most Rangers would have tried to sort through the noise. Driftwood did something different.

He reached into the small leather pouch tied to his belt and pulled out a smooth stone carved with a swirl — the Calm Core.

He didn’t flash it or announce it. He just held it in his massive palm, breathed deep, and let the calm roll outward like a soft ripple.

His voice dropped low and even, the kind of tone that made the swamp hush:

“Ain’t no truth worth drownin’ over. Let’s breathe ’fore we break.”

The words weren’t magic — but his calm was.

Bitterbrush’s shoulders loosened. Lowbranch stopped pacing. The tension that had been snapping like branches under pressure softened.

Only then — when the room had returned to breath instead of fire — did Driftwood sit with them on the old wooden dock.

He didn’t ask what happened first. He didn’t pick a side. He simply let the calm hold them long enough for clarity to rise.

Softly, he strummed a chord on the guitar he always carried. One note. Low. Round. Healing.

Then he said:

“Tell me the truth you meant… ’fore it got tangled in the truth you said.”

The Calm Core kept both sides steady as they unpacked their worries.Lowbranch admitted he felt left out.Bitterbrush confessed she felt overwhelmed and snapped without meaning to.

For the first time in days, they truly heard each other.

By the time moonlight touched the water, the two were laughing again — untangled, honest, connected. Driftwood didn’t take credit. He never did.

As he stood to leave, he tapped the Calm Core once against the old dock.

“When you steady yourself,” he said quietly,“you steady the whole swamp.”

Then, as always, he faded back into the slow, swampy dark — carrying the truth, and helping others face theirs.