The ground sloped upward. As they walked through the forest, they stumbled upon a dirt path. It wound through the trees, barely more than a deer track. Ike followed it. Before long, the two of them came upon a clean, cobbled road. As it climbed up the mountain, the road cut back and forth. The switchbacks zig-zagged up into the clouds, climbing so high that the trees swallowed them up. Wooden planks reinforced the cobbles where the switchbacks turned and the earth climbed too quickly. The planks were enormous, easily ten feet long and a foot wide.

“Is there another way around?” Ike asked.

“Don’t complain yet. We haven’t even reached the stairs yet,” Wisp said.

“Stairs?” Ike asked, startled. He gaped at the all-but-sheer mountain face. If there were stairs on this surface, they’d be basically vertical.

“Foxes love stairs,” Wisp muttered darkly to herself. After a moment, she perked up. “And I love foxes!”

“Eating foxes,” Ike reminded her.

“Yum-yum,” Wisp sang, bouncing upward.

Ike shook his head at her back. “You’re definitely the more deranged one of the two of us.”

“Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Nah.”

Not going to defend it, huh? He chuckled and set off up the mountain after Wisp.

They climbed the road in relative silence. Wisp occasionally hummed a tune to herself. Ike couldn’t catch many of the words, but the ones he did were concerning. ‘Succulent meat,’ ‘tasty treat,’ ‘yummy yummy fox tails slurp slurp slurp.’ She bounced along with a big grin on her face, the picture of youthful innocence except for the horrifying lyrics she sang.

“You know, I get that whole thing about you not fitting into human society now,” Ike muttered, looking at Wisp.

“What do you mean? I’m being very human right now,” Wisp said, taken aback. She put her hands on her hips and stopped dead, staring at him.

He shook his head at her and walked by without explaining.

Wisp tsked at his back and jogged after him. “Once you taste fox, you’ll understand.”

“Aren’t they predators? Most predators are kinda gamey,” Ike said.

“Well, these are monsters. Monsters aren’t like most predators,” Wisp said confidently. “Plus, they spend all their time dining on humans, so—” She abruptly fell silent and shut her mouth.

“So?” Ike asked, raising his brows. Yeah? Where were you going with that, huh?

“Soooo, anyways, it’s righteous for us to eat them,” Wisp said, nodding firmly.

“It’s righteous for us to eat them because they eat people?”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Yeah! Isn’t that what humans say when they want to justify killing monsters?”

Ike opened his mouth, then shut it. He shrugged. She’s not wrong. “You really can think like a human when you want to.”

“Teehee!” Wisp grinned proudly.

“But I’m not eating foxes that eat people. That feels like one step away from cannibalism.” Plus, I’m pretty sure they don’t actually taste good to people.

“What? You’re just going to let them live?” Wisp asked.

“I never said that. More for you,” Ike said, patting his sword.

Wisp grinned.

Back and forth, back and forth, climbing the switchbacks up the mountain. At last, the path turned directly up. For ten paces, it climbed up bare mountain, and then stone stairs appeared, ascending directly up toward the peak.

“Fuck,” Ike muttered, staring up at the distant top.

“It’s not that bad,” Wisp said.

Ike pursed his lips. He shook his head and said nothing. With one big step, he mounted the stairs. One step at a time. Stone edges unyielding below him. Sweat poured down his back and soaked into his bandanna. The sun poured from the sky. The air grew thinner, and Ike struggled to breathe. At the same time, weight pressed against his shoulders.

“What is that?” Ike asked.

“The mountain’s pressure.” Wisp gazed at the peak, an unusual reverence in her eyes. “Some mountains are alive. Not… monsters, or mages, but immensely powerful beings in their own right. The closer you get to the top, the more you experience their pressure.”

“Oh,” Ike said softly. His eyes turned wary as he gazed at the peak, suddenly less certain about ascending such a venerable being.

“In the end, they are mountains. They can’t speak, and they never move. If they act, they act on the timescale of mountains, not of mere mages or monsters. Some people say it’s just a superstition that the mountains are alive, but I’m sure you can feel the pressure just the same as I can,” Wisp said.

Ike nodded. Eyes still locked on the distant, craggy peak, he asked, “What happens if we go all the way to the peak?”

“Then you’d have to bear the full weight of its pressure. Most can’t. It’s broken mages stronger than you,” Wisp said. Her expression turned grave, then lightened. “But we’re only going through the pass, so we don’t have to worry!”

Ike let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “And thank goodness for that!”

Up ahead, the ground finally began to level off. Ike huffed, pushing up his bandanna to wipe his forehead. A stiff breeze raced through the pass. Cold, dry air whisked away Ike’s sweat and ran through his wet hair. Standing in the pass, he bridged both sides of the mountain. On one side, rain poured down. On the other, rays of sunlight beamed on gorgeous fall foliage.

He forgot to breathe for a moment. The entire world slowed down. There was nothing but the beauty of nature, the breeze, the sun and the rain.

Gorgeous.

A bony elbow prodded him back to reality. Wisp waggled her brows at him and pointed. Ike turned, following her finger.

At the center of the pass, a small path led into a stand of delicate aspens. The slender trees, no bigger than a forearm, grew close together in the pass. Silvery leaves quaked on the mountain breeze. The path wound into the aspens and vanished.

“Is that where the inn is?” Ike asked.

Wisp nodded, then slowed. Her brows furrowed. “There was a sign, last time I was here. I wonder what happened?”

Ike walked toward the path. As he went to enter the aspens, he stopped abruptly. “There it is.”

The sign laid on the ground, half-covered in aspen leaves. Freshly broken wood jutted out of the ground just beside it where the post had snapped.

“Huh? Did someone break it?” Wisp asked.

Ike twisted his lips. “Looks like it.”

“Hmm.”

They both gazed down the path, thinking.

“Shall we?” Ike asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Wisp agreed.

The two of them set off down the path. Ike rested a hand on his sword, and Wisp raised her hands. Both of them moved silently. They stepped carefully, avoiding twigs and leaves. The aspens shivered around them, whispering in the silence. Silver leaves shook. The whole world trembled, alive with the aspens’ motions. Ike kept glancing left and right, only to find nothing but aspens awaiting him. He swallowed.

I don’t like this.

From out of the aspens, an inn loomed. The simple wooden A-frame building stood tall against the mountain, its huge pointed peak gazing down on the world, like a miniature mountain itself.

A scream broke the silence. Ike and Wisp exchanged a glance and ran, rushing toward the sound.