Three lovely girls used to come to Primiero every summer to sell flowers; flowers no one had ever seen before. All the girls were very beautiful, but so shy they fled at the slightest noise and they were so quiet, they only made themselves understood with tiny nods of the head.
The people had invented strange stories about them. Some said they weren't human; others thought they were probably Anguane; others again that they lived in the rivers... None of this mattered to a young local shepherd called Siror. He was madly in love with the girl who had long golden hair. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He neglected his sheep and friends and followed her everywhere, from village to village, intervening when anyone pestered her and running to silence the noise of a sawmill or the bark of a dog.
One day Siror decided to find out where the three maidens lived. When evening fell he did not return home as usual, but followed them at a distance without being seen. He was amazed when he saw the girls stop on the banks of the river Cismon, dive into the water and swim about until they turned into three lovely... otters! Poor Siror was so frightened he fell down with a cry and fainted.
The Anguane, or rather, the three otters swam to the bank, got out of the water, turned into women again and ran to the shepherd's side. The girl with the golden hair caressed the unconscious boy and kissed his brow, cheeks and lips.
- Why did you follow me here? - whispered the Anguana weeping. - Now our secret has been discovered we won't be able to show our faces around here any more. We'll have to live like otters forever and I wont be able to see you again. Will you remember me?
The other two slowly pulled the maiden away from the shepherd's body and dragged her back to the water. Then once again they turned into otters and disappeared among the waves.
When Siror woke up in the morning, at first he thought it had all been a dream: the Anguane, the otters, the girl with the golden hair... He stood up with a sad sigh and was about to turn round and go home when he realised the whole field, where he had slept, was covered with lots and lots of tiny pale blue flowers, the same kind the Anguane used to sell in the valley every summer. At the same time his attention was attracted by a sudden splash of water. He turned and there, in the middle of the torrent, he saw a vein of golden froth and he heard a tiny voice saying:
- Forget me not... forget me... not!