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“What is happening?”
He doesn’t answer. He looks like he’s concentrating, his lips moving. I don’t hear words or any sound, but the mist becomes a heavy fog. My heart races as the fog rises. It’s up to my waist and still coming.
“Stop!” I yell. “Stop this. Are you taking me home? I can’t leave yet. What is happening?”
My head is barely above the fog. He stands head and shoulders above it as I look around, terrified. I try to jerk my hand out of his, but his grip tightens painfully.
“You’re hurting me. Let me go.”
He continues muttering, pulling me along beside him. We’re still moving towards the stone; the tip of it is the last thing I see before the fog covers my head.
Chapter Twenty-Four
White fog surrounds us, so thick I can’t see my hand in front of my face. It’s chilly, wet, cloying, and making me claustrophobic. Fear thrums in every muscle. My only point of certainty is the dark stranger's hand.
“Do not fear,” he says, his voice dull and muffled. “We are almost there.”
“Almost where? Where are you taking me?”
“To your destiny.”
“Because that’s an answer,” I say. “You practice this whole cryptic stranger thing?”
The fog thins and then we step out. As we break free, the fog clings to us like it’s trying to keep us from getting away from its cold white grip. We’re not where we were but this also isn’t home.
A huge white ash tree dominates my field of vision. It fills the night with massive branches that stretch across the sky. The tree seems to emit a light of its own. A soft, white-silver glow that outlines every leaf. My breath catches in my throat as I stumble to a stop.
“I’ve seen this before,” I whisper.
“Yes,” my guide says.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The air is rich with the scent of the sea, salt, and fish layering over the thickness of fresh heather. I open my eyes and look at the stranger.
“Who are you?”
He does a slow blink.
“Call me Dugald,” he says at last.
“Okay, Dugald, where are we? Why have you brought me here and how do I get home?”
“You are home,” he says, then walks away.
“Hey,” I yell at his back, rushing to catch up to him. “This isn’t home. I don’t know where this is.”
He has long legs and it’s all I can do to try and keep up to him. He heads towards the tree, and I follow. Small, rough buildings made from woven branches and stacked rocks dot the landscape as we come under the branches of the tree.
People move about, tending to whatever business they are doing. I focus on catching up to Dugald, not paying much attention to anyone or anything else until something I half-see in my peripheral vision causes me to stop.
A young boy, who can’t be more than twelve or thirteen, with reddish-brown curly hair and a cherubic face, is crouched by a fire. What stops me in my tracks is his antlers. They protrude from the sides of his head as natural as a deer, but he’s a boy. He sees me staring and stands up, dusting his tattered, rough spun pants at the knees.
“Hi,” he says, walking over and offering his hand.
“Uhm, hi,” I say, taking his offered hand.
“Are you here with Dug?”
“Uh, yeah, I think so.”
