Mother and I reached the base of the mountain as night descended. We had maintained our pace all day, and I could tell that she was tired.

“Should I build a fire for us?” I asked.

She shook her head wearily. “No fire tonight.”

“Alright,” I agreed. “Why don’t you set up camp while I go find some food?”

I didn’t wait for her to answer.

There was a slow river that ran around the base of the mountain, so I made that my target. I could see that there were fish in the water but ignored them for now. I didn’t feel like cleaning a fish to eat it. Instead, I searched along the muddy banks for edible roots and berries. I also found a patch of greens with plenty of delicious leaves I could harvest.

I brought the bounty back to where Mother was resting, eager to show her my accomplishment.

She peeled the roots and mashed them into a rough paste. I removed the stiff fibers from the mush before she mixed in the berries I’d found. Then, using the leafy greens to scoop up the mixture, we filled our stomachs.

Our camp was barely deserving of the word. It was just a spot where Mother had cleared the rocks and sticks, giving us a place to lay comfortably. We wrapped ourselves in Mother’s cloak, cuddling together to share body heat.

Of course, it wasn’t as comfortable as our bed at home, but it wasn’t unusual for us either. During the summer, I was just as willing to sleep outside as inside. It didn’t matter to me where I was, as long as my mother was near.

She fell asleep quickly, which was expected. Her gentle snores floated past my ear, as calming to me as any lullaby. She joked that it wasn’t ladylike to snore, but to me, it was a loving reminder that I wasn’t alone, even in the dark.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t sleepy yet. I slipped out from under the cloak, to not disturb Mother with my restlessness. I tiptoed over to the river bank, seating myself on a smooth stone. I gazed up at the stars, wondering how long it would take me to count them all.

I hummed to myself as I sat there, breathing deeply and feeling content.

“What are you?”

I whipped around, feeling my heart leap into my throat. I found myself staring at a creature that was something between a fish and a human. Its scales glinted in the moonlight, showing an iridescent sheen. Its voice was raspy, but it spoke clearly enough for me to understand. 

“What are you?” it repeated. “I sense magic in your blood.”

My mouth worked silently for several moments before I found my voice again. “My—my father is tiernan.”

“Ah,” the creature nodded. “You are tiernan.”

“Half-tiernan,” I corrected automatically.

The creature cocked its head to the side. “Half? One cannot be half of anything. To say you are half is to say you are not. One simply is or is not.”

My brow furrowed. “That’s not how it works,” I argued. “My mother is human and my father is tiernan, so I’m half of each.”

The creature gave a gurgling sigh. “You are wrong, small being. You are human through your mother and tiernan through your father. You can be both of those things, but not half of either.”

I crossed my arms against my chest, muttering to myself. “Why am I arguing with a fish person in the middle of the night? Am I even awake?”

It chuckled at my words. “The dream world and the waking world are not far from each other. I suppose it does not matter where you find yourself. Regardless, I have an offering for you.”

The corners of my mouth pulled downward. “An offering? Why?”

“I observed that you did not harm the river creatures when finding nourishment. For that, I am grateful and give you my humble advice.”

“Oh, advice,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. For a brief moment, I’d thought that I would be given some sort of magical present.

The creature’s eyes twinkled, but it didn’t comment on my response. “Here is my advice to you, young one: Do not ascend this mountain.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“You and your mother will not be safe,” it continued. “No matter which bloodline you claim, neither are on good terms with the spirits of the mountain.”

I thought about that for a moment. “I guess I can understand that humans don’t get along with others, but why are the mountain spirits fighting with tiernan? Aren’t the spirits tiernan themselves?”

The creature smiled. “Have you never seen humans fight against each other?”

“I just thought tiernan wouldn’t…” I muttered.

“All creatures have conflict from time to time,” it shrugged. “This is the same around the world. Regardless, I urge you to take your mother back to your home. It is not safe on the mountain.”

I pressed my lips together. “We can’t go back. We need to get medicine for my aunt, or she’ll die.”

“All living things die,” the creature said dismissively. “You may find the medicine you seek, or you may die on the journey. It is just a question of how many lives you will risk for this venture.” It raised its hand. “I have given you my gratitude offering. Do as you wish with it.”

The creature disappeared back into the water, not even leaving a ripple behind. I stared at the river, dumbstruck. The night continued with its peaceful sounds, nothing disturbing it. If I had just walked upon this scene, I never would’ve guessed what had happened mere moments before. Was I truly awake, or had this been some bizarre dream?

“That wasn’t helpful,” I said to the air. “You could’ve given more information.”

As expected, there was no answer.

I walked back over to where Mother was sleeping and climbed back under the cloak to snuggle next to her. 

“Tiff?” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

“It’s me,” I whispered. “I was just down by the river for a little bit.”

She nodded and immediately started snoring again. I sighed softly, thinking over the advice I’d been given.

Do not ascend the mountain.

The creature had made it sound like a war zone, but no one in the villages had mentioned it. If the humans hadn’t noticed, could it really be so bad? Besides, the areas near human settlements were typically avoided by magical beings. There were probably few tiernan involved in this alleged conflict.

I fell asleep after consoling myself with such thoughts. However, the morning dawned and I was feeling uneasy all over again.

“Mother,” I began, “maybe we should go back home.”

She looked up from the small pot where she was cooking some soup. “Why would we do that?”

I told her what had happened the night before, watching as her frown grew deeper. She was silent for several moments after I’d finished. She ladled the soup into a bowl and handed it to me.

“It said nothing else?” she asked.

I shook my head. “That’s all.”

Mother sipped from her bowl of soup, looking troubled. “I’ve never heard of tiernan fighting with each other. Surely, they wouldn’t involve outsiders.”

She didn’t sound certain at all.

“It would take days to get to the next closest mountain,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know how long Ellie has been sick…”

“Maybe they’ll ignore us,” I said hopefully.

“Maybe,” Mother acknowledged.

Her eyes rested on me, and I knew what she was thinking. She was wondering if she should send me home or tell me to wait for her here. She was weighing the dangers of me going with her up the mountain versus me staying where I might encounter villagers or soldiers.

I felt a familiar twinge of guilt in my heart. If I wasn’t here, everything would be easier. Mother wouldn’t have to worry about me. She wouldn’t have to choose between my safety and her sister’s well-being.

“I could hide at the base of the mountain,” I suggested.

Mother immediately shook her head. “No, I want you to stay with me. We’ll move as quickly as we can and only travel in the daylight.”

I immediately agreed. Even though I didn’t want to admit it, I felt relieved that I wouldn’t be left behind.

We washed the dishes and packed up our bundles. I could see that Mother wasn’t happy with the situation, so I kept quiet while we worked. We waded across the river, reaching the other side without any trouble.

The slope up the mountain began almost at the river bank. We had to climb using our hands for the first part until the ground leveled out enough for us to stand. 

The tree line engulfed us almost immediately. Our path was steeper than what I was used to at home, but it wasn’t hard to keep up our pace. At least, it wasn’t for me. Mother began huffing and puffing after the first hour of our climb.

“Do you want to take a rest?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “We need to keep moving.”

I understood her anxiety. Something about this mountain didn’t feel normal. I couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong, but my instincts urged me to run.

“It’s too quiet,” Mother murmured.

I cocked my head to the side, realizing that she was right. There was no birdsong, no buzz of insects, no wind through the trees. It was just the sound of our footsteps on the pine needles scattered on the ground.

“What does it mean?” I asked in a hushed voice.

My mother’s eyes were tight as she shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

I didn’t believe her words. At the very least, she had a good guess about what was going on. I assumed that she chose not to say anything so she didn’t scare me.

Normally, I didn’t get scared easily. Well, I didn’t get scared of things in the forests and mountains easily. Even the predators in the wild are simple enough to understand if one makes the effort.

This was different, though.

This was the kind of fear that I usually only felt when approaching the village, not knowing what kind of danger was in store.

We continued on our upward path. Anytime we saw an edible plant, Mother would stop and harvest some of it. Her pouch filled up with a delicious variety of berries, nuts, and roots. She seemed reluctant to stop for a midday meal, but I gently convinced her to take a rest.

“How far do you think we’ve come?” I asked.

She squinted down the way we’d come. “Not as far as I’d like,” she said shortly.

I crunched on a small handful of nuts, savoring the unique flavor. “What does the medicine look like?”

Mother reached over to wipe a crumb from my face. “We probably won’t see it until we get higher. It only grows near the summit.”

I nodded, tossing more nuts into my mouth.

“The stems are long and thin,” she described, “and the leaves are shaped like stars. They have no blossoms, but some of the leaves turn purple in clusters. It’s those purple leaves that have the medicine we need.”

“Are they on a bush?”

“No,” Mother answered. “Each stem grows by itself, but they are often in a patch together.”

I took a drink from our water skin. It seemed simple enough. I was accustomed to helping my mother find various plants, so I was skilled at spotting individuals among the busy forest floor.

“There’s a river just over there,” I said, pointing to our left. “Should we refill our water?”

Mother didn’t ask how I knew there was a river, even though it was too far away for us to hear it. It was another of my tiernan quirks. I always knew how to find water.

I led the way through the trees, humming softly to soothe myself from the unnatural silence. The sound of the rushing water was a relief, and I quickened my step to reach the bank.

I was just about to step down into the water when I froze.

A short distance downstream was a beautiful white horse lying on its side in the shallows. It had a bloody gash on its leg, and it looked to be struggling to stand.

My heart immediately dropped to my stomach. I hated seeing any creature suffer, but especially one so magnificent. I had never seen such a beautiful horse before. Its coat shone in the sunlight like a pearl, and its dark eyes were strangely calm. I gave a small cry and started walking toward it.

Behind me, I heard Mother hiss as she lurched to grab my hand. I looked at her, puzzled.

“Nokk,” she whispered.

All of my insides clenched, while I struggled to take a breath. Nokken were water shape-shifters who lured their prey to be drowned.

I was dangerously close to the horse, and my shoes were already in the water. I started to back away, but it was too late.

The nokk realized it wasn’t fooling us anymore. In a flash, it turned into an aberrant combination of animals. A long tentacle whipped out and wrapped around my waist, pulling me into the river.

Even with water flooding my ears, I could hear Mother screaming. I pummeled my fists against the limb that held me. I kicked and clawed, trying to remember to take a breath every time I surfaced.

It slammed me against a boulder on the edge of the river. I cried out in pain, feeling my entire skeleton jar with force. Blood started dripping down my forehead and into my eyes.

I was pulled into the water again. I was still recovering from the blow against the rock, so I was too disoriented to take a breath before going under. The blood washed out of my eyes and the shock of cold brought me to my senses. Water filled my mouth and nose, urging me to struggle harder.

I tried to reach for a rock at the bottom of the river—anything that could be used as a weapon as I fought for my life. My fingers closed around a hard object, and I immediately used it to strike at the tentacle.

Part of me knew that it wouldn’t do any good. I was too small and too weak to win such a fight. Even so, I used every bit of my meager strength. I hammered at the tentacle with the stone in my hand. I pulled it closer so I could rip at it with my teeth.

The nokk’s movements slowed.

Was it working? Did our attacks make a difference?

I renewed my efforts, clawing and biting with all of my energy. Suddenly, I felt myself being flung into the deepest part of the river. I landed with a splash, once again panicking because I didn’t have enough air.

When I surfaced, I saw my mother swimming toward me. The nokk was nowhere to be seen, and there was no evidence that it had ever been there.

Mother grabbed me around my chest, using strong strokes to pull me to shore. I’d never realized she was such a good swimmer. 

My thoughts twirled in a dizzy circle as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Where had the nokk gone? We were alive! Were we alive? Has Mother always been such a good swimmer? We would sometimes go swimming in the summer, but only in the calm mountain lake. The river water didn’t seem as cold now. Do I know how to swim? I should help Mother swim. Are we going to survive? Had we survived? Was this surviving?

We reached the river bank, and Mother pushed me up out of the water. Both of us sat there, coughing and gasping for breath.

“Are you alright?” she asked, checking all of my wounds.

I wanted to say that I was fine, but the words wouldn’t form in my mouth. Instead, my eyes flooded with tears. I flung my arms around my mother, sobbing endlessly into her shoulder. I tried to speak, but all of my sentences morphed into babbling wails.

Mother smoothed my hair and rubbed my back. “It’s alright,” she murmured. “We’re alright now. The nokk is gone.”

“Well,” came a sonorous voice from behind us, “at least one of those statements is correct.”

I yelped as I whipped around to face the stranger.