“I don’t know,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
Shea wasn’t sure who’d asked that.
“It means I don’t know if that’s even possible. No one I know of has attempted it. Once the mist takes you, that’s it. If you’re not anchored or with a pathfinder, you’re just gone.”
There was a long silence as they digested that.
Shea stared into the mist, angry and scared in a way she hadn’t been in a very long time. She wasn’t ready for this to be the end—for Fallon to disappear, not dead, but not alive either.
No, she wasn’t ready at all.
“I have a theory about the mist. It’s a risk though and could end with all of us dead.”
There was the sound of something hitting another thing.
“Ouch.”
“I knew she would have a plan. Didn’t I tell you?” Buck asked.
“Like I said. It’s a risk.”
“We’ll take it,” Buck returned. “I’m sure it’ll work.”
“I’m not,” someone muttered.
There was another thud and then a different person said, “Hey.”
“Sorry,” Buck apologized.
Shea was very much afraid that Buck’s faith was misplaced this time. She wasn’t lying when she said it was a risk, and the chances of success were small. If she were still a pathfinder, still answering to the guild, she would never have been allowed to even consider this option. There were too many things that could go wrong, costing her not just Fallon’s life but the lives of everyone with her. It was a heavy burden to contemplate.
Her plan meant finding a large enough object, preferably living, to anchor this group to. Villages in the Highlands rarely went missing. The mist might pass them by but could do little to totally displace them, unlike those wandering the forest.
The soul trees might work. They were definitely big enough and were firmly rooted in this world. It was still a risk—something that had never been attempted before—but it wasn’t as great a risk as leaving them standing in place awaiting her return. She could end up losing all of them, Eamon, Fallon and all the rest.
She kind of wanted to kick her own ass for even considering a plan so asinine. Then she thought of what her life would be like without Fallon in it, and she was willing to risk the world itself for the chance to see him again. It was a selfish desire. Dangerous and at odds with a pathfinder’s duty.
“What’s your plan?” Eamon said.
Last chance. She could follow her training, lead her charges to safety.
What had playing it safe got her before? Betrayal, punishment and heartache. No, she was Trateri now and life was a calculated risk. She could do this. She would do this.
“The soul trees. In the myths, it’s said their roots and branches stretch between many worlds. I know they are rooted deeply in this world. If I can find one here in the mist, it should give you an anchor to our world. After you’re anchored, I’ll head out to find Fallon.”
“Thought you said it had never been done before.”
“It hasn’t, but there’s a first time for everything.”
Shea didn’t need to see Eamon’s face to know the concern that would be on it.
“Fallon wouldn’t want you to risk yourself on such a thin margin of success,” Daere said in a soft voice.
“He’s not here to stop me.” Shea’s voice was hard. “I decide what risks I take.”
The mist stirred, giving a brief glimpse of the hazy silhouette of the figures clinging to a thin rope that was all that anchored them to her.
