“You mean… Yetis?” I half-laugh, as I recall the local legends.
Her expression hardens. “The Migoi isn’t the Western creature you imagine. It’s a spirit. A guardian. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it warns. And sometimes…”
Her voice trails off.
I lean forward. “You believe they’re real?”
She nods. “I know they are. Most people leave when winter comes, but my family has always stayed here. We’ve seen tracks and other signs of a large creature. Too big to be a man. When we have enough, or when we have no choice but to enter those woods, we leave offerings.”
She’s quiet, staring out the window but her eyes are unfocused. After a few beats she continues. “One winter was so harsh, we nearly ran out of fuel and thought we’d freeze to death. But the next morning, we found wood stacked outside. So much wood, Dahlia. No man could’ve done that overnight.”
She blinks away the memories and meets my eyes. “I listen to the mountains, to the earth. And I respect the Migoi.”
I whisper, “So what we heard tonight… was that a warning?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it was just passing through.” Her eyes dart back to the window. “But even without the Migoi, the forest across the river is dangerous—wild animals, avalanches, even harsher terrain than what we’ve already explored.”
I swallow hard, realizing the weight of her words and say softly, “Sita, it’s the only place we haven’t searched. Ihaveto go.”
She sighs. “We will go back to the ashram first and ask again. Then, we’ll see. Now, sleep.”
She squeezes my hand. “We’ll leave at first light.”
Chapter
Six
The cold wind turns freezing as we finish our hike to the ashram. Despite my previous expedition conditioning me to the harsh terrain, today’s pace leaves me panting in the thin air as we try to outrun the snow-laced sky.
Once we arrive, we are met with disappointment more bitter than the weather. After much cajoling and heartfelt pleas from Sita, one of the yogis admits hehas heard a story of the plant I am looking for, but it is in a holy place he cannot, or will not, reveal.
No matter. I know it's across the river in the forbidden woods. Just as I know, despite the legends of the Migoi and the other dangers Sita warned me about, I must go there.
“Let’s head back so I can update my notes,” I tell Sita. I’m not lying, but the real reason to return is my plan to sneak into the forest at first light. Alone.
I’m not scared of the terrain, the weather, or even the Migoi, who is probably nothing more than the stories of Bigfoot back home—a tuft of fur, a misread footprint, a legend born of shadows.
Sita had never actually seen one, and as for the firewood? It must have been some neighbors who helped her family.
If I sneak out early every morning, I’ll have a few hours to explore and get back before it gets too dark or cold. It’s a desperate plan, but it’s the only one I have.
Sita begs me to spend the night at the ashram with the threatening weather, but I’m desperate to start my search tomorrow. If we stay here tonight, it'll be another day wasted.
“It’s all downhill from here,” I remind her. “We have plenty of time to get back. Please, Sita.”
At last she agrees, and we thank our hosts and depart for home. After the warmth of the ashram, the mountain air seems even colder. The normally expansive sky is a threatening gray that sends us scurrying down the trail.
Just as we lose sight of the building, fat, fluffy flakes begin falling. White blankets the ground, crunching under our boots as we pick up our pace.
“Dahlia, we’re halfway between the ashram and home. I think we should keep going, since downhill will be easier,” Sita says as the snow coalesces around us.
“I’m so sorry I pushed us to go,” I say.
“No need to apologize. I agreed. Let’s just focus on getting home as quickly and safely as possible.”
She squeezes my arm with a smile, but I see the worry in her eyes. She’s lived in these mountains all of her life, and I can tell she's trying not to scare me.
Eyes locked on the trail ahead, I push forward as fast as I dare, carefully planting each step. The once whimsical snowflakes now swirl with a menacing urgency.
