Beyond the Mist and Trees

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Boars, wolves, and a bear.

None of those deterred the woman and her friends.

I scoffed in my cot. Why would those animals make them stop coming near the mist? Nothing had ever stopped them before, not even the harsh punishments they received after their mischievous acts in the past.

Perhaps I should just let the mist take them, wrap its cold, silky fingers around their necks and hearts, and consume their souls. I slept with that thought in mind and later woke up after a vivid dream. In my dream, I touched the woman. Me, with my bare pale hand, I touched her face, wiping the warm tears that streamed down her cold cheeks. If I told anyone about it, they would consider it a nightmare. Us, creatures of the forest, touching a human? It was almost like touching sin itself.

I blinked, feeling the mist and the invisible thread that connected me to it. It was calm tonight, like a still lake slowly melting on a weak winter night.

Perfect for my task tonight.

As my sight adjusted to the amber-lit cottage, I was startled to find Ivy sitting in front of the wide window at the foot of my cot, half of her white, long hair reflecting the light from the hearth.

"The mist wants to visit the village," her voice said, as if she sensed I was awake.

"What?" I croaked, slowly sitting up.

She looked over her shoulder, smiling at me, her golden eyes almost like the fire in the hearth. "Are we going to send them more animals?"

I shook my head. "No." There was no reason for another attack. The woman got injured and it might take days for her to come back again. And I knew she would come back.

"But other friends will visit them," she said.

I smiled. "Yes."

"Tonight?"

"Midnight."

Her face crumpled. "Never liked them."

I chuckled lightly, then I frowned, remembering what she said. "What else does the mist tell you?"

"Oh," Ivy said, lips stretching into a wider smile. "Many things." She jumped on my cot, eyes glimmering with excitement. Ivy enjoyed telling stories as much as she loved hearing them. Most days, I knew she was just making them up. But there were also moments when they sounded too real to be fantasy. Her stories about the mist were among them. "She wants me to join her and live in her castle," Ivy whispered, leaning closer as if she was telling me a secret.

I frowned. "She?"

My sister nodded, pointing at the mist. "Her, my friend."

This was new. And this was alarming. As Guardians of the Mist, as half-humans, we were connected to it in a special way. And if we practiced enough like the others before us, we could control it, keep it where it had to be.

But to talk to it? Make it our friend? No. Never. If it was even possible, it was not supposed to be.

Maybe Ivy had been spending too much time with the nymphs lately that she had absorbed many of their stories. But I could not just let this pass. "Ivy," I cautiously said, waiting to get her full attention. "When you say the mist is your friend, do you talk to it?"

"Her," she corrected irritably. "She's a she."

"Do you talk to her?"

"Of course. That's what friends do."