Beyond the Mist and Trees

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"She would not let me through."

Ivy's words rang in my head for the rest of the day and the days that followed. She, a mere human, was holding my sister captive from me, the Guardian of the Mist, the one who could kill her with a flick of my finger. But I did not do that. I let her take Ivy away again as I watched helplessly behind the mist.

Of course, I tried to cross it. But unlike Ivy, I could not go far. I felt the chill eat me alive. For some reason, my sister had something in her that made it possible.

Or the mist willed it.

I never intended to tell anyone, but Aunt Myr was as any mother could be. She had an innate intuition that something was wrong. Or maybe the trees rustled the gossip to her ears. All I knew was that she was at my door, concern painted all over her moss-green face.

She asked the question, and I had to tell her. My sister was on the other side, held by the sister of the next bride.

"Not good," Aunt Myr murmured, more to herself than anything else listening. The trees agreed with her because they grunted their trunks and bristled their leaves. "He will not be pleased."

The Snow King.

"It wasn't my fault," I said. "Nor was it Ivy's."

"Of course, dear," Aunt Myr said, turning to face the trees that surrounded the cottage. Snow gently fell, covering the already freezing ground with fresh flakes. "You must find a way, Wren."

I nodded. Of course, I would. My sister was not where she was supposed to be.

"But how did she even cross the mist?" Aunt Myr asked.

I did not answer because I did not want to believe the answer that played in my head.

The mist says we're friends...

I had seen Ivy lingering near the mist many times in the past, playing near it with her straw dolls. But I never thought it strange. She was drawn to the mist as I was, with our souls connected to the ones trapped inside. I did not believe her when she said she could talk to the mist, but maybe I should have. Maybe I should have listened more.

But this was a magic Otto never told me about.

Maybe because he did not know it's possible.

"Ivy is a special child," Aunt Myr said.

Yes, she is. But maybe she is also a different kind of special. "I'll get her back, Aunt Myr." I looked around, at the trees, the bushes, the wintry shadows. Everything in the forest had eyes and ears. "If you can help me keep this a secret for a little while longer."

"I'll talk with the others," she reassured with a nod and started to walk away. "I'll start with the water nymphs. They spread gossip faster than the pixies."

That night, I returned to the mist and waited. And as they promised, they were back. Ivy, my dear sister, looked happy. Innocent. She did not know what was going on. She must think her friend wanted her. And like me, Ivy must have always longed for someone to want her. Not like Aunt Myr, a thousand-year-old nymph who did not bleed the same color of blood as us. But like our mother. Like this woman Diana, a human with a warm touch. I knew because I felt it when the mist touched her.

"How are you?" I asked my sister, maintaining a straight face. She had asked me to remove my mask the last time because she wanted to see that I was okay. But I knew Ivy. She was smarter than her age. She rarely listened to what I had to say because she could read my thoughts better by looking at my reaction. "Did they hurt you?"