said.
“That’s the spirit.”
“How long until we pass through the mist?”
“A while yet,” Olyva said.
“I don’t like it—it’s so gray and gloomy.”
“I agree,” Olyva said.
“If the sunlight can pass through the mist, why is it so dull inside the mists?”
“I don’t know,” Olyva said. “But I’ve thought the same thing myself.”
Olyva wished the mists were filled with the same warm, amber-colored sunlight that she loved so much in the blighted lands. She was tired already after getting so little sleep. She and Rafe had been up at dawn. He was making plans for the defense of Avondale, and she was gathering supplies for her scouting expedition. The sunlight in the city had been marvelous, but in the mist she felt tired and almost hungry, even though she didn’t normally eat regular food anymore. She thrived on sunlight and preferred to let water soak up through her long, rootish toes.
“Maybe the mists are magical,” Desyra said, without the slightest trace of fear.
“That’s possible,” Olyva thought, although Tiberius had never noticed anything magical about the mists. “Does that frighten you?”
“What? Magic?”
“Yes, does magic frighten you?”
“No, I think it’s exciting,” Desyra said.
“Does anything frighten you?” Olyva asked.
“I guess,” Desyra said. “Father was frightening after he came back from the capital. Mother frightens me sometimes.”
“She can be difficult to understand.”
“Cassandra and Frezya try to scare me, but they aren’t very good at it.”
“They can be mean,” Olyva agreed.
“Mostly they just ignore me. Plus, I could always go to Father. He would protect me.”
“He was a wonderful man,” Olyva said.
“I miss him.”
“Me, too.”
They walked on in silence for a while. Olyva was happy to have the spear she had taken partly for protection and partly as a staff to help with the descent. She knew the spear wouldn’t save her or Desyra from a pack of graypees, but she hoped that she would feel anything approaching them before they ended up in any real danger.
The mountainside was rocky and steep in places, but there were no sheer cliffs to scale down, and her toes gripped the soil so that she had a firm footing. She was even able to help Desyra, who occasionally slipped on loose stones or dirt. When they finally passed through the mists, the world grew bright below them. The blighted lands were magnificent to behold from the side of Mount Avondale. Everything below them was green and lush. The amber-colored sunlight wasn’t as potent to Olyva as the direct sunshine above the mists, but she could immediately feel her skin drinking up the rich light.
“Wow!” Desyra exclaimed. “It’s so beautiful.”
“It is,” Olyva agreed. “But we need to keep moving. We want to reach the bottom before nightfall.”
“It’s a long way,” Desyra said.
“Yes, but we can make it. Like you said, it’s all downhill.”
They made the trip down the mountainside easily enough. Desyra kept up a steady conversation. She asked question after question, her curiosity unquenchable. There was no indication that nightfall was on its way, but when they were close to the base of the mountain, they came upon a small spring that trickled from between two rocks. The mossy grass grew longer around the water, and the mountainside formed a small, bowl-like expression just past the spring.
“We’ll camp here tonight,” Olyva said.
“Finally?” Desyra said, flopping onto the ground.
There was very little wood on the mountainside, and Olyva wasn’t too keen on building a fire in the first place. She had packed candles and she gathered enough dry grass to kindle a small fire, which she did, using the small flames to light three candles. The grass fire only lasted a few minutes, and then Olyva poured water over the ashes.
“Why not build a real fire?” Desyra asked.
“There isn’t much wood or dung to burn here,” Olyva
“That’s the spirit.”
“How long until we pass through the mist?”
“A while yet,” Olyva said.
“I don’t like it—it’s so gray and gloomy.”
“I agree,” Olyva said.
“If the sunlight can pass through the mist, why is it so dull inside the mists?”
“I don’t know,” Olyva said. “But I’ve thought the same thing myself.”
Olyva wished the mists were filled with the same warm, amber-colored sunlight that she loved so much in the blighted lands. She was tired already after getting so little sleep. She and Rafe had been up at dawn. He was making plans for the defense of Avondale, and she was gathering supplies for her scouting expedition. The sunlight in the city had been marvelous, but in the mist she felt tired and almost hungry, even though she didn’t normally eat regular food anymore. She thrived on sunlight and preferred to let water soak up through her long, rootish toes.
“Maybe the mists are magical,” Desyra said, without the slightest trace of fear.
“That’s possible,” Olyva thought, although Tiberius had never noticed anything magical about the mists. “Does that frighten you?”
“What? Magic?”
“Yes, does magic frighten you?”
“No, I think it’s exciting,” Desyra said.
“Does anything frighten you?” Olyva asked.
“I guess,” Desyra said. “Father was frightening after he came back from the capital. Mother frightens me sometimes.”
“She can be difficult to understand.”
“Cassandra and Frezya try to scare me, but they aren’t very good at it.”
“They can be mean,” Olyva agreed.
“Mostly they just ignore me. Plus, I could always go to Father. He would protect me.”
“He was a wonderful man,” Olyva said.
“I miss him.”
“Me, too.”
They walked on in silence for a while. Olyva was happy to have the spear she had taken partly for protection and partly as a staff to help with the descent. She knew the spear wouldn’t save her or Desyra from a pack of graypees, but she hoped that she would feel anything approaching them before they ended up in any real danger.
The mountainside was rocky and steep in places, but there were no sheer cliffs to scale down, and her toes gripped the soil so that she had a firm footing. She was even able to help Desyra, who occasionally slipped on loose stones or dirt. When they finally passed through the mists, the world grew bright below them. The blighted lands were magnificent to behold from the side of Mount Avondale. Everything below them was green and lush. The amber-colored sunlight wasn’t as potent to Olyva as the direct sunshine above the mists, but she could immediately feel her skin drinking up the rich light.
“Wow!” Desyra exclaimed. “It’s so beautiful.”
“It is,” Olyva agreed. “But we need to keep moving. We want to reach the bottom before nightfall.”
“It’s a long way,” Desyra said.
“Yes, but we can make it. Like you said, it’s all downhill.”
They made the trip down the mountainside easily enough. Desyra kept up a steady conversation. She asked question after question, her curiosity unquenchable. There was no indication that nightfall was on its way, but when they were close to the base of the mountain, they came upon a small spring that trickled from between two rocks. The mossy grass grew longer around the water, and the mountainside formed a small, bowl-like expression just past the spring.
“We’ll camp here tonight,” Olyva said.
“Finally?” Desyra said, flopping onto the ground.
There was very little wood on the mountainside, and Olyva wasn’t too keen on building a fire in the first place. She had packed candles and she gathered enough dry grass to kindle a small fire, which she did, using the small flames to light three candles. The grass fire only lasted a few minutes, and then Olyva poured water over the ashes.
“Why not build a real fire?” Desyra asked.
“There isn’t much wood or dung to burn here,” Olyva
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