Mayka looked back only once—to see her friends gathered by the gate, waving, while the chickens pecked and clucked in their coop and the goats munched on pinecones that they’d found in their pen and the rabbits nibbled on clover. She waved back and wished she could etch the moment in stone. It all looked so perfect in the morning light, with the pine trees framing their home and the peak of the mountain above them.
I’ll be back, she promised silently. Very soon.
She followed a deer trail between the trees. The dirt was padded with a mat of old pine needles that tickled the soles of her feet. Rocks and roots jutted into the trail, so she had to watch where she stepped and skip between them. After a while, she heard the trickle of a stream up ahead, and then the trail twisted to run alongside it. When the trail narrowed so that blueberry and dingleberry bushes were scraping her ankles, she splashed through the stream, holding her arms out for balance as she hopped over the slick rocks.
As she walked, she felt her mood begin to shift. She wasn’t looking back anymore; she was looking forward. This is my first adventure, Mayka thought. I never thought I’d have one. She found herself wondering what the valley would be like close up, and she imagined what she’d say when she encountered her first stranger. She’d never met a stranger before.
Maybe she would meet another stone person. Maybe a girl. She’d never met anyone like her. That would be amazing, she thought, to share stories with someone just like me.
Overhead, birds tweeted and squirrels scurried up and down the trees and into the bushes. She saw a deer once, through the trunks, frozen as it stared at her before it bounded away, leaping over logs as if it had springs in its knees.
After a little while, she noticed that the tweeting birds sounded very much as if they were arguing.
“Hey, this is my branch.”
“You can’t own a branch. They’re for everyone! Besides, I saw it first.”
“You landed second.”
Ordinary birds did not talk. Scanning the trees, she looked for her friends. “Risa? Jacklo? Did you follow me?”
“Um . . .” Jacklo said. “No?”
Mayka put her hands on her hips and glared at the trees. “Tell the truth.”
“Yes?” Jacklo said.
She heard leaves rustle. Turning in a circle, she spotted them: high up in an oak, two gray birds side by side on the same branch. Risa smacked Jacklo with her wing. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
“She said tell the truth.”
“You could have evaded.”
“She figured out we’re here,” Jacklo said. “She’s very smart.”
Risa made a birdlike snort, which was more of a whistle. “If she were so smart, she would have brought us in the first place, instead of making us have to sneak behind her.”
Mayka glared at them both. “I didn’t make you sneak behind me! You were supposed to stay home! Didn’t you hear Nianna yesterday? Father wanted us to stay home; it’s bad enough that I’m leaving.” The birds looked at each other, and Mayka put her hands on her hips, hoping it made her appear fiercer. “Besides, you have tasks to do! What will the chickens do without you?”
“Peck at things,” Risa said, with a shrug of her wings.
“The others will take care of them,” Jacklo said. “We were elected to come with you.”
“Oh? Who elected you?” Mayka asked.
“It was a small election,” Jacklo said. “Very small. Only two votes. But we won in a landslide! There was a lot of cheering.”
Risa sprang off the branch and glided down to Mayka’s left shoulder. Jacklo followed her, landing on Mayka’s right shoulder. “Don’t be stubborn,” Risa said. “With us helping you, we’ll find that stonemason and be back before Nianna even notices.”
“She’s not the boss of us anyway,” Jacklo said.
The water from the stream rushed over Mayka’s feet, tickling her toes and burbling as if it wanted to talk. She felt the cold and wetness, but it didn’t distract her—it would take a long time for water to erode her feet. “I don’t need help.”
“You will,” Jacklo said confidently.
“How do you know that?”
Jacklo dropped his voice. “Because you might meet . . . the giant monsters!”
Risa sighed. “Jacklo!”
“What giant monsters?” Mayka didn’t know what she’d find in the valley. Aside from a few stories that weren’t true anyway—there was no such thing as sky people—she didn’t know anything about life there. “Do you know stories I don’t know?”
“Er, um . . . Well, there could be giant monsters. Maybe?” Flapping his wings, he flew into the air and circled above her head.
Mayka rolled her eyes at him. No monsters. He was inventing excuses. “Jacklo—”
“If we’re with you,” Risa said, “we can scout ahead and warn you about any danger. Even if it’s not monsters.” She leveled a look at her brother.
“You say you don’t want us, but we know you do,” Jacklo said, still circling Mayka.
“Father left the valley for a reason,” Mayka said. “It could be dangerous.” But that’s a reason to let them come, part of her whispered. You don’t have to face this alone. Just because she’d claimed this as her quest didn’t mean it was only hers, no matter what Nianna said. It would be nice to have Jacklo and Risa with her.
“At least let us come with you to the bottom of the mountain,” Jacklo bargained, “so we can tell the others that you made it down safely. Please, Mayka!”
That sounded reasonable. And truthfully, Jacklo was right: she was glad to have their company. We can be alone together. “Fine. Come with me.” As Jacklo began to cheer, she added, “But only until I’m down the mountain. No promises after that.”
“Very well,” Risa said. “For now.”
With Jacklo flying above and Risa still on her shoulder, Mayka continued downstream. She liked the sound her stone feet made when they clicked on the rocks in the water, and she liked the feel of the water-worn pebbles. A few tiny fish darted in the deeper pools, and she thought of the stone fish at home. They’d never left the pond by the cottage. She wondered if they ever thought about swimming in a stream down the mountain or about what it would be like in a lake, or even the sea.
“How far from home have you flown?” she asked Risa.
Jacklo answered from above, flapping his wings to stay close to them. “All over the mountain,” he said proudly. “Even up to the top! Ooh, you should see the view! You can see forever from up there! I think you can even see so far you can see tomorrow!”
“But the valley? Have you flown there?”
“Father never wanted us to,” Risa said, from Mayka’s shoulder. “And we didn’t want to make him unhappy.”
“Now that you’re going, though, we can fly far and wide!” Jacklo performed a loop-de-loop in front of them.
“You said you’d go back when I reached the bottom,” Mayka reminded him.
Finishing his loop, he dipped down as his wings drooped. “Oh. Right. Unless you change your mind and want us with you. It’s not that we don’t want to be home. It’s only that we want to see the world! And then we can go home.”
Mayka understood that: now that she was on her way, she was eager to see the valley too. It was a strange, unexpected feeling. I think I’m actually excited. She resolved not to tell Nianna that, after this was over. “What have you seen of the valley from the sky?”
“Houses,” Jacklo said promptly.
“And fields, with rivers between them,” Risa added.
“And tiny people who look like ants swarming a garden.”
Mayka halted midstep. “What?”
“Jacklo, you are hopeless,” Risa said. “They only look tiny because we’re far away. Up close, I am sure they’re ordinary size. And I don’t know if they’re stone or flesh.”
“Oh.” No giant monsters and no ant-size people. She felt foolish for thinking he meant it, even for a second. It’s only that I don’t know what to expect. For all Mayka knew, the people in the valley could breathe fire. She wished she knew more recent stories in addition to the long-ago myths. “I guess we’ll see.”
They traveled on in silence.
The forest was still thick on either side of the stream, with branches that wove together into knotted clumps that looked to have no beginning and no ending. Ivy vines grew over all of the underbrush, masking the individual plants, so that the forest blurred into a solid mass of green. Now that they were farther down the mountain, Mayka noticed that there were different kinds of trees. Plenty of pine still, but she also saw a lot more oak trees with gnarled, maze-like bark, and birches with white papery bark. She loved the birches. They stood out like white candles against the dark forest. In fall, their leaves were a yellow so bright it looked like flames, but now they were deep summer green. A woodpecker hammered somewhere nearby, its rat-a-tat-tat echoing through the forest.
“This is it,” Mayka said, “the farthest down the mountain I’ve ever been.”
“Congratulations!” Jacklo said, and she grinned at him. She didn’t want to say it out loud, but she was glad the birds were with her. Something this momentous should be shared.
After a little while, she began to hear a steady sound in the distance, like a whoosh or a whir. “Jacklo, can you go see what that is?”
He flew forward, while Risa stayed on her shoulder.
It sounds, Mayka thought, like a windstorm. She’d been through plenty of storms, huddled in the cottage while the wind and rain pelted the face of the mountain, with all her stone friends and all the flesh-and-blood animals safe around her. She’d retell Father’s best stories to keep them calm. But today the sky was blue, and she didn’t feel more than a breeze. The trees weren’t even swaying.
It was getting louder as Mayka walked on.
“Jacklo? Where are you? What is it?”
If Jacklo answered, she didn’t hear him—any answer was drowned in the whoosh-crash. The stream she’d been following had deepened and widened, and it ran so fast that it frothed as it jumped from stone to stone. Other streams ran beside hers too, also burbling as they raced over rocks. Ahead, the streams merged together, which was fine, she thought, as long as they didn’t knock her off her feet.
Perhaps I should—
And as she began the thought, the water slapped harder at her leg, and she stumbled. Stepping on slippery rocks, she couldn’t get her balance. Her arms windmilled on either side. Risa took flight with a cry.
Above her, Jacklo screeched, “Waterfall!”
He dove toward her, waving his wings, but she was already falling, crashing into the stream. The bubbling water flew into her face. Splashing, she grabbed for a root that jutted over the stream. Climbing onto it, she wiped the water from her eyes.
“Very, very long way down,” Jacklo said, landing on the root. “Don’t go that way!”
Risa flew forward and then back. “He’s right.”
More carefully this time, Mayka crawled off the branch. Her feet squished into mud, and it sucked at her toes as she inched forward through the stream.
Several streams ran into one another and then spilled over the edge of a rock. So this is a waterfall, she thought. She knew what one was, of course, and she’d seen plenty of little ones all over the mountain. The forest was full of streams that cascaded off of rocks, but she hadn’t known it could sound like this, as if there were thunder just ahead.
She waded farther into the water, toward the falls.
“Don’t!” Jacklo cried.
“I just have to see . . .” Grabbing behind her, she held on to a branch, wrapping both hands hard around it, and leaned forward. Only a few inches, and she’d be able to see where all the water was going.
But she couldn’t. It was tumbling into air, into a cloud of droplets.
“Wow! That’s amazing!” she cried.
“Come back!” Jacklo called.
She retreated. Maybe if she went beside the waterfall, she could climb down. Picking her way carefully across the streams, she finally reached solid land. She inched to the edge and looked down—straight down.
It was a cliff.
Beside her, the water plummeted into empty air, churning with bubbles and foam, until it crashed down on the rocks far, far below. Directly below her, also far below, were more rocks.
She looked left, then right. Left again.
In both directions, as far as she could see, roots and vines dangled over the drop-off. I could climb, she thought dubiously. She usually avoided cliffs. It was only sensible.
If she fell hard enough, she could break. Her fingers were fragile. The braids in her hair could snap off. Her nose. Her ankles.
“We’ll go around,” Mayka said. “Can you scout to see which way will be faster?”
“Jacklo, fly north,” Risa said. “I’ll fly south. Return after fifty wingbeats.”
“Aye-aye, Captain!” Obeying, Jacklo flew along the cliff, and Risa flew in the opposite direction. Mayka settled against a rock to wait.
Telling herself not to worry, she looked out beyond the cliff at the valley. What had looked like a patchwork quilt from high on the mountain now looked like rolling fields, with rivers splicing them. Farmhouses dotted the valley, nestled in groves of trees or framed by golden and green stretches of land. And was that the city of Skye in the distance? Maybe. She couldn’t tell. Anyway, she didn’t plan on traveling as far as Skye. All she needed was to reach the valley itself—the nearest stonemason would do. She would locate a road, then a house, and then ask directions, either from a stone creature or from a flesh person. It was a simple plan, but that was fine. It didn’t need to be complicated to be good.
It will work, she told herself. Risa and Jacklo just need to find me a way down.
She thought again of what it was going to be like to meet her first stranger, and wanted to be on her way. A new person! It’s going to be as incredible as seeing a waterfall.
Risa flew back first. “It’s worse that way. Sheer rock for miles. It will take at least two days to reach someplace where you could climb down safely.”
Mayka felt heavy, as if all the stone of her body wanted to sink into the earth. She’d been hoping to reach the valley by morning at least. She stared out at the valley—so close and so far, still so very far.
“Where’s Jacklo?” Risa asked.
Mayka pointed in the direction he’d flown.
“He knows how far he’s supposed to fly before he returns. We’ve done this before,” Risa said, landing on a root near Mayka. They waited for a few more minutes. “Sometimes he gets distracted.”
They waited some more.
Still no Jacklo.
Risa settled her wings around her. “I’m not going to look for him. I’m not his mother. He’s not my pet. If he can’t be responsible—”
Seeing a shadow slip through the sky, Mayka pointed. “There he is!”
He danced with the clouds, flipping and somersaulting in the air, clearly performing for them as he swooped in front of the cliff.
“Jacklo, that’s enough!” Risa called.
“Oh, but the wind is so wonderful! Can’t you feel it, Risa? Northerly wind! I could fly for hours in it!” He swooped past them again, and Mayka felt a breeze on her face as his wings were inches from her nose.
“The cliff, Jacklo!” Mayka called. “How far does it go?”
He did a figure eight. “Not sure. But I found something. Come see!” They followed him along the edge of the cliff for several minutes. Mayka climbed around brambles and ducked under branches. And then, without warning, Jacklo soared out over the cliff and plummeted down. Sighing, Risa flapped after him, while Mayka crawled to the edge and peered over.
As in the area close to the waterfall, vines were everywhere, woven like a rug over the rock. Lying on her stomach, she watched as the birds, working together, grabbed at vines with their beaks and pulled them backwards. Was that . . .
Jacklo crowed, “Stairs!”
Stairs?
But who would have carved . . .
Father.
It had to be Father. “Once upon a time,” she whispered, “there was a man who wanted to live in the mountains . . .” She didn’t know all of her father’s story, but she could imagine at least a piece of it.
If it was a story, she could begin to understand it.
He had to want to come here badly enough to climb this cliff. She looked out again at the valley—the distant city, if that’s what it was, was beginning to sparkle as shadows spread across the fields and rivers. The sun was sinking. The sky was still lemon yellow, but the low light made the rocks glow amber. “He encountered a cliff, and so he carved himself stairs . . .”
Reaching down, she began to yank at the vines near the top. Jacklo and Risa pulled others away, snipping leaves with their beaks, until they had exposed a step. It wasn’t a very broad step, and dirt had settled into its grooves. But Mayka knew stone, and she knew the chips in it weren’t natural. A tooth chisel had touched this rock. She stretched out her arm and touched the scratches filled in with dirt.
Working patiently, the two birds pulled and yanked and snipped at the greenery on the cliff as the sun set and shadows settled over the forest. As the moon came out, they kept working, clearing away greenery, while she waited at the top—able to hear them but not able to see much more than movement as they made their way down.
They worked through the night.
At dawn, as the moon faded from view and the sky lightened, she saw that the two birds were done: crude steps were revealed on the cliff face. The rising sun painted the rocks with yellow and rosy pink.
The two birds landed on her shoulders as Mayka began to climb down. They issued instructions: step here, watch that one—it’s loose—hold there, move a little left, now right . . . As she climbed, her fingers touched the grooves that her father had carved so many years ago. He’d climbed up these steps and never climbed back down.
Or had he?
Why did he make stairs if he never returned to the valley? He could have used ropes to climb up, or found a way around, but instead he’d carved permanent steps into the cliff. She wondered if he did return to the valley.
But no, he couldn’t have. One of her friends would have known if he’d ever left, and they would have told her. They wouldn’t have kept that story from her.
Maybe he didn’t return. But maybe he meant to.
She wondered what he’d think if he knew she was on his steps now. Would he be angry, or proud? She didn’t know. But she did know she was more determined than ever to see Father’s valley.
At last, she was at the bottom.
“See?” Jacklo said smugly. “We were useful.”
Risa fluttered her wings. “Now will you stop being all noble and silly, and agree to let us come with you the rest of the journey? You know we’re going to do it anyway.”
“Please, Mayka!” Jacklo begged. “Please, please, please say you want us with you!”
Of course she wanted them with her. They were her friends! She’d never been apart from any of them for more than a few hours. If Jacklo and Risa came with her, it would feel like bringing a piece of home. But was that a good enough reason to agree? She’d meant only to risk herself.
Dusting the dirt off her hands, Mayka looked back up at the cliff with its crude stairs. She couldn’t have done that without the birds, right? Maybe she’d been foolish to think she could do this alone. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d thought. She might need help, if she was going to return as quickly as she wanted.
Now, that’s a good reason! Even Nianna would have to agree with her logic, now that the birds had proved this wasn’t a task for only one. She grinned at her two friends. “Yes, I’d like you to come.”
The two birds cheered, and together, they continued on through the forest that covered the mountainside—down toward the valley.