Despite what Mishtaw had said, the wind within the spirits’ home could hardly be considered ‘gentle’ even after the spirits calmed the air. It was still strong enough to snatch at my braid and clothes, press on my balance when a stronger gust blew through, and sweep away words. Perhaps the winds we were faced with weren’t the gale force gusts that could lift an adult during the Warming Winds, but they also weren’t the gentle breaths of air that cooled down a warm season day.

The spirits had opened their home without ceremony. One moment there was a subtle pressure deterring us from entering their home, only noticeable for the sudden lack the next moment when a hole opened in the barrier. Through it we could reach the starting platform and the three paths that led from it.

There was another, different pressure, when it came time to leave. Similar to what I felt when my blessing was the only thing keeping me alive, but this time the goddess’s eye was not focused on me. The spirits might be able to welcome us in but they still could not leave. It took a long while for the others to work up the will to brave that indirect stare when they needed at break from the constant wind.

At first, the platform was crowded with both my cohort and one from the year after us, though they had fewer girls. It took time to get accustomed to the sudden change in intensity. Still, after only a few minutes a handful of seedlings tied their blindfolds over their eyes and took their first attempt at the trial.

Ulo and Nii were among them. Apparently, it was group that didn’t have much in the way patience. None of them got very far. The sprites didn’t always bother to redirect their leaves and petals around us and I watched as one girl was so startled by a wave of purple and pink petals that she stumbled right off the side of the path she was on.

She plummeted, screaming. But five or so feet below the path, she halted, as if held by an invisible hand that then carried her back to the starting platform and dumped her on the ground.

One by one, the others met her same fate. Some missed a turn and stepped right off their path, some couldn’t hold their position against a sudden burst of wind, some were led in circles by the spirits so that they ended up walking back to the starting platform on their own.

Still, despite the setbacks, the platform behind me slowly emptied as more and more seedlings tried their hand at the trial while I settled in the crook between two of the paths. Until, eventually, it was just me and Juniper who hadn’t attempted the trial even once.

I thought about giving her some advice or a taunt just to get her to try it, but then Wren was swept up back onto the platform by an invisible hand and she took off her blindfold long enough to realize we hadn’t moved from our starting positions. I felt her glance at me before she focused on Juniper. She said something to her that I couldn’t hear—the wind spirits didn’t make communicating easy in their space. But Juniper must have caught it, because it wasn’t long after that she was following Wren, stiff legged and blind folded, hand in hand, to the middle path.

The further they went, the smaller and more hesitant her steps became like she was afraid she was going to step on the edge at any moment though she was doing a remarkable job at sticking to the center of the path. Eventually, the wind spirits seemed to get fed up with her behavior because a blast of wind came roaring forth, ripping her hand from Wren’s and shoving Juniper into open air. She screamed so loud it cause another girl to nearly fall.

The wind spirits caught her in an invisible hand, held her there, and…dropped her. She fell another five feet before being caught again—and then dropped. They repeated the move while Juniper’s screams turned into sobs. Somehow, I swore I could still hear those despite the wind snatching away any and all words. Finally, her feet touched down on another path. She crumbled down into a ball as soon as her feet touched solid ground, but the wind spirits didn’t give her a respite for long. A handful of breaths later they plucked her up from the center of the path before depositing her back on the starting platform.

Ironically, with that stunt she had made it technically farther than anyone else so far. She didn’t seem to appreciate that accomplishment though with the way she was pounding her fist against the stone. Later, I would learn this was something that the wind spirits did to all the seedlings who were especially afraid of heights or falling. They made it clear that this was their home and they controlled over everything in it, and while that was the case we had no reason to fear our inevitable falls.

Meanwhile, Wren had tried to grab after Juniper and had only barely managed to keep herself from tumbling over the edge after her. Then she wasted time making sure that Juniper wasn’t somehow screaming from the path behind her before she resolutely carried on her way. Juniper was still laying on the ground by the time she was brought back to the starting platform, so Wren was able to touch her on the shoulder before trying her luck with another path.

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Not long after that, looking like she thought she was going crumble back into pieces at any moment, Juniper pulled herself to her feet and inched her way back along the central path. The spirits let her take her time this go around.

And, just like that, I was the only seedling to not leave the starting platform. Sometimes Prevna caught my eye before she tugged her blindfold back down, but she didn’t try to rush me. Mishtaw had given her advice, but I still had my own plans.

I ignored the comings-and-goings of the seedlings when they were on the platform behind me, but I watched each of them, multiple times, while they were on the paths until I could make out the subtle shifts of clothing and hair that indicated the wind sprites were doing more to guide them then just blowing wind in their face. But the more I watched, the more I saw that not all of those guiding gestures helped the others. Sometimes they pulled the girl off balance, sometimes they led her off the path, other times they seemed to be used to create confusion, disorientation.

It was like they were trying to throw the others off course, like there was a path they could follow even without being able to see the stone under their feet. It reminded me of the time I had followed the barest breath of wind from Flickermark’s depths to the Statue Garden and the stories that speculated that whisper women could sense the wind to an incredible degree.

I closed my eyes, keeping the blindfold tucked away, and did my best to just feel the wind. It was constant, a never ending stream that could blow forever. It dried out my lips and would have stung my eyes if they were still open. My hair was pulled this way and that, and perhaps because of that I couldn’t find any direction to follow. I shoved my braid down the back of my tunic and tried again—to the same result.

So I sat with one leg dangling out over the edge, ignoring the tramp of feet behind, and kept trying to understand what the spirits were trying to hide. I could have joined the others, tramped my own way down the paths over and over again, probably would have out of sheer stubbornness if it wasn’t for one thing.

This was a test of communication. Both to earn it in the form of the boon, but also to pass it, by how we communicated with the spirits. My skill with communication lay in cutting another down, and I doubted that would serve me here. But I had listened to the winds before, just I had been surrounded by the Warming Winds in the past.

My position now was reminiscent of the time they had thawed me out, though I couldn’t fully embrace the memory without fearing I’d fall into it without realizing. So I approximated the memory to the point that my skin prickled with unease, but no further. Just enough that it helped me realize what I wasn’t hearing now that I was in the spirits’ home: their voices.

It should have been louder now that we were within the bubble of the goddess’s will, but all I heard was the rush of wind and the occasional scream as someone fell. Were they hiding their voices just like they were muffling ours?

I wasn’t sure if I could do anything about it if they were, or even if hearing their laughter and unintelligible whispers would even help me with the trial, but the absence, now that I noted it, reminded me of the absence of wind on the shore which set me more on edge. Made me want to get up from my precarious perch and away from the uncomfortable memories, but I kept my position.

Better to see what else I could learn here than throw myself after what everyone else was doing. I still had ample time to try that route, if I needed to. For now I could observe.

A vortex of interest seemed to swell around me as the others left for food or to simply take a break from repeated failure. I felt a couple play nudges on my back, like the spirits were considering pushing me off the edge like they had with Juniper, but my position also seemed to dissuade them. If I was comfortable enough to sit with one leg dangling over the edge, then I likely wasn’t in need of a lesson to not fear falling here.

Prevna came and pressed a wrap full of meat and herbs into my hand at one point. I shifted and smiled at her to remind us both that I wasn’t frozen. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, somewhere between exasperated and amused, before she left to go enjoy her own meal outside of the strong wind.

Throughout the day I alternated between watching the others and closing my eyes to see what I could notice on my own. The more I did so, the more I decided that the paths themselves were a trap. Perhaps not intentionally or entirely, but from what I could tell the others were firmly focused on keeping their feet on solid ground rather than finding a wellspring. Nor did there seem to be much communication happening, except for the wind spirits’ small tugs on clothing.

Mishtaw had made it clear that the better we listened to the spirits, the more likely we were to get a better boon. But right now there didn’t seem to be a whole lot to hear.

Still there were the traditional ways. I didn’t have bone chimes or a banner, but perhaps a lesser gift would still be better than nothing. I opened up my poisoner’s pouch and let a large pinch of spiritflower be snatched away by the wind.

“A gift for your hospitality.”

I felt foolish for talking to the wind, but if I was going to communicate with the wind spirits then I had to start somewhere. Never mind the fact that, if I earned my boon, I’d be talking to the wind on regular basis. Better to get used to it now.

Then I finally tied my blindfold around my head so it covered my eyes and pushed myself off the edge. I gritted my teeth as I fell, determined not to scream. Despite that I couldn’t help but let out a startled gasp when I quickly slowed to a stop in midair. It felt like I was being held up a cloud, something too insubstantial to hold my weight, but the next moment that same force was thrusting me upward and back onto the starting platform. I tried a couple more time but the spirits never let me fall all the way to a lower path.

The standard paths it was then. No matter how much they might try to divert my focus, I’d keep my attention on my true goal. And unlike the others, I’d refuse to give up, no matter how times I failed.