steep mountains. It would slow me down and be unfair to him.
For a moment, I stood at the opening of the woods, looking up the hill into the gloomy forest. I could hear the creak and twitch of the woods themselves, branches snapping, woodpeckers pecking. Insects buzzed around me, small animals skittered over crushed leaves and twigs, and in the far, far distance, I even thought I heard the howl of a dog. I shivered.
I imagined the overwhelming aroma of the forest might calm me with its musky floral, honey, laurel, and freshly cut grass all breathing beneath the heady scent of rich, dark soil. It was wonderful.
But I was still quaking.
With another deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and took my first step into the mountains.
“Only for you, Haydyn,” I whispered, and continued on in resignation.
The climb was almost immediate. One, two, three steps and the ground began to tilt upward. There were no more signs posted to the trees giving me directions to towns or settlements or whatever it was these people had in here, but I was following my magic, managing to keep to the rough track that already wound its way up through the mountains.
The longer I climbed, the more I wondered where the people were. My ears were practically pinned back, my heart jumping at every little noise. I must have stopped and spun around a hundred times, my eyes probing the shadows between trees for signs of life. So on edge, I wasn’t going to sleep tonight.
I climbed for hours, my feet blistering inside the maid’s boots. I fought off the pain by refusing to think about it, thinking only of the growing darkness within the woods and how cold it was becoming. By dusk I was beginning to panic that there were no signs of life. My magic told me the Pool of Phaedra was still days off yet, and I had hoped to find some safe place to shelter for the night.
Safe, I snorted.
Was that even a word in the Mountains of Alvernia?
I stopped, my ears kicking back at a familiar noise.
Water!
The trickling in the distance set my heart racing again. Surely where there was water, there would be people! I followed the noise, tripping over a thick root and taking my first tumble of the day. I landed on soggy leaves and damp soil, dirty circles staining my trousers at the knees. I grunted and got back up, determined not to feel foolish considering no one had seen me. The sound of water drew me to a stream, and I followed it, making sure it didn’t pull me too far from the direction of my magic.
Surprise rippled through me as the woods broke, the stream leading out of the trees and into a clearing.
Stretching before me, encircled on all sides by the Arans, was a town. Shacks I gathered were houses dotted here and there, some by the stream, some farther off until they looked like little black squares in the distance. Lights shimmered in the dark. An extremely well-lit larger shack, some way off, caught my eye.
“Can I be helpin’ ye, son?”
I jerked and then froze, my mouth falling open, my eyes wide, my palms and underarms instantly giving in to cold sweat. Slowly, afraid of what I’d find, I turned to confront the gruff voice with its strange burr. A man, exactly what I had in my mind when I thought “mountain man,” stood before me, burly, tall, and wearing a frown of suspicion. He was wrapped up warm in worn clothes, a furry hat covering his head. I gulped at the sight of the huge ax laid casually against his shoulder.
I was threatened by more than just his height. I was a woman alone, and I had been caught by a strange man. But then … he’d called me “son.”
Glancing down at my boy’s clothing, feeling the boy’s cap on my head, I exhaled in relief. He thought I was a boy. I deepened my voice and tried to emulate a rough accent.
“Just lookin’ for a place to rest before I pass through.”
He straightened a little, eyeing me closely. “Oh yeah? And where you be headin’, boy?”
I’d never heard such an accent before. It was clipped and tight with trilling r’s and dropped g’s. I shook myself from my momentary distraction and thought about my answer. It was well known to everyone in Phaedra that the Pool of Phaedra was considered mystical and fascinating. There had been many