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Outside, critter noises vie for my attention. Eager for a peek, I slip out of bed, my sweater hanging midway down my thighs. I shuffle into my undergarments, socks, and skirt, then steal another glimpse of the sleeping satyr. His muscles expand and contract rhythmically, the furs barely covering his pelvis, red fibers of hair trailing from his navel. Damn this prig. He has every idea what he does to his conquests but no idea what he does to me.

My heart winces, tenderizing in pain. If I don’t leave now, I’ll crawl into the blankets and wake him up.

I pad downstairs for my boots and step into daybreak. Rose gold splashes across the sky as I venture across the grass, hoping to explore The Herd of Deer. The oak stands proud, candle wicks sizzling from the boughs. A chipmunk leaps from its burrow, and twin hedgehogs with parsley-colored spikes waddle into a bush.

I tuck a lock of green behind my ear and watch the animals roam in their habitats. A current of air rustles my skirt. My clothes and hair are weightless, untethered. I tilt my head back, inhaling the crisp, earthen scent of dew on the hedges.

Look at you, thoroughly fucked and pleasured, all relaxed and radiant and—

“Alive,” I echo.

Puck’s loyal companion lounges on the ground, but she rises when I spot her. Shamrocks jingle from Sylvan’s antler crown as she trots in my direction. That she trusts me enough to do this floods my belly with warmth.

I step toward her, then stumble. The ground jolts, rupturing across the soil. Branches crack, acorns raining from the boughs. Roots burst from the soil, spitting chunks of dirt.

My palm presses to the deer’s side for balance. The small critters have already fled, having sensed the quake and scuttled off.

Is it truly a quake? I tense, scanning the perimeter for signs of an incoming creature. Perhaps one of the wandering fauna has shifted to a behemoth size.

Yet the sound doesn’t seem to be coming from within the woodland. No, it’s coming from above.

I crane my head to the heavens. Through the oaken mesh, distant mountain peaks spear the air. The chiseled bluffs and pillars of The Solitary Mountain loom beyond the forest valley like sentinels, clearer than I’ve ever glimpsed them. Amidst the range, one summit appears to be…moving…broadening.

Holding on to the doe, I peer closer. The peak is shooting toward the clouds.

It’s growing. And it’s growing fast, faster than any landmass should. It vaults from the earth, a craggy monolith spearing toward the heavens. The woodland vibrates, the turbulence uprooting flora.

I cling to Sylvan while she remains steady, her hooves stamped firmly into the grass. We stay like that for a few minutes, then I break from my stupor and glance at the cabin. This mayhem is sufficient to wake the dead, yet there’s no sign of Puck. He can’t possibly sleep through this pandemonium!

Or yes, he could. I want to run inside and shake him from his slumber, but if I move, I could trip and snap my neck.

Sylvan nudges my elbow and offers me her back. I recognize the invitation from the last times we’ve ridden together, those times when she’d sprung through the wild as though she could travel through it while blindfolded. This isn’t a bid to escort me indoors but elsewhere. Perhaps she senses my agitation, because any occurrences having to do with that mountain mean only one thing to me. Only one person.

My head swings between her and the cabin. Puck will have to wait.

I heft myself onto Sylvan’s back, and she sprints into the trees. I lean over as the deer hurtles around trunks and over bushes. Despite the ground rumbling, she moves with velocity and focus, like a flying lance.

We come to a dale with a gap in the canopy, which offers a clearer view. Mounted atop Sylvan, I witness the pinnacle spearing into the air. It launches past a strange network of platforms, what appears to be bridges intersecting and overlapping to form a jigsaw of crossings—like some bizarre maze.

Again, a single face blooms in my mind. “Lark,” I whisper.

The name surges from my breast, where it’s been tucked safely away, protected like a nut inside its shell. It’s been thirteen days since I last saw her, but it feels like thirteen times longer.

What’s happening up there? Where are you? Are you all right? If I holler, will you hear me? If you hear me, will you answer? Can you answer? Please?

Fear thrashes in the hive of my chest. Perhaps a sixth sense is overtaking me, hyperawareness snarling around my gut. Either way, I’m done evaluating.

I feel my sister up there. I know she’s on that peak. I can’t say how, but I do.

The pinnacle keeps rising like a sharp tooth. It bypasses every crest—then stops. Everything ceases. The jolting comes to a standstill.

Whatever caused that peak to grow, the impact has dislodged parts of The Solitary Forest from its hinges. Fallen branches inundate the ground. Several holes pockmark the floor, and speckles of dust filter through the creepers.

I dismount, my boot soles thudding to the ground. I take a tentative step forward. That’s when the foundation gives a final, episodic shudder, an aftershock scrolling across the earth. I stumble, thrusting my arms out to the sides and catching the doe.

She braces me. I pat her in gratitude, my palms trembling. On reflex, I glance down to make sure my limbs don’t collide with hers. My entire left foot lands in one of her hoof prints, my boot fitting inside the wedges. In my world, this wouldn’t be possible. However small, my foot would never fit inside the impressions of even the largest deer.

But this is no ordinary creature, and she comes from no ordinary world. Size-shifting aside, she’s a big female who would dwarf any buck in the human realm.