Reg Olverspiel looked through a small gap in the criss-crossing thousand foot thick branches to the roiling mist below and froze. That wasn't how it was supposed to look. The mist was normally a gray undifferentiated mass far, far below the Tree, but now it was alive with huge waves and grasping tendrils that had already engulfed some of the lower branches. This was his first year out herding with a crew, but even he knew what this meant: a mist storm was coming and if they didn't gather the goats and giant beetles, they'd lose the whole flock.

Reg whistled sharply three times and his herding spider, Ankie, started scuttling around, gathering the small flock of grazing goats to start heading back towards the rest of the herders. By Reg's estimation, Ankie was the best herding portia on the tree -- she was sharp as a spear, never tried to eat her charges, and had beautiful green and purple whorls on her exoskeleton. She quickly had the goats moving in the right direction up the wide branch that they'd been foraging on. Ankie and the goats all seemed to pick up on Reg's mood and moved faster than their normal amble.

The normal predators of the Tree sensed something as well. The group saw a griffon on the way back that had no interest in testing Reg's slingshot for the chance at a goat and was instead winging upwards. Two panthers broke out of a small copse and ran along the goats before swarming up a narrow branch. By the Heart, this was bad.

With a sigh of relief, Reg saw that Barkle and his herd of goats and beetles were at the large burl that they'd marked out earlier in the day. Barkle was an older human, scarred from years of herding on the wild branches. The only time Reg had seen him without a frown on his tanned face was when he was talking about throwball.

As soon as he saw Reg, Barkle yelled "Boy, do you know what in the forgotten below is going on? Critters are losing their mist-touched minds."

"Mist storm, I think." Reg yelled back.

Barkle paused. "Rot and blight. And us out in the middle of nowhere. You sure it's a storm? No, of course you are if you got a glimpse. I was hoping this was just a drakeling passing through and riling up the critters or sumthin of the like. Figures it'd be worse. Now, where's that damn upper branch city idiot? She shoulda been back here well before either of us."

Reg hadn't realized that Martha and her flock weren't back yet, and the branch that she'd headed down with her flock was barren. The wind was rising and the barky ground beneath their feet was moving. "Boy, you stay here and watch the flock. I'll go fetch that upper branch fool and we'll weather this together." Barkle turned and started limping down the branch.

Reg hesitated, "Barkle, sir, wait. Ankie and I can move faster than you can. Let us go instead."

Barkle glowered, "Boy, you sure? You're faster, no question, but this storm is a widow-maker and depending on how quick it comes you might be caught in the open"

Reg gulped -- he knew the stories of what happened to those caught in the mist without the masks of the Achivian Guard -- but Martha was a friend. Barkle, solid as he was, was old and slow, and speed was needed. "Yes, sir. Ankie and I will handle it."

"Alright, Boy. Reg. Your mum will skin me for this, but it's a herder's right to choose their own risks. May Erwa guide your steps." He paused, "Trust your spider -- she's smarter than you are. She'll be less affected by whatever happens than you'll be. Now go!"

Reg and Ankie flew down the branch. The wind was at their back and the Tree groaned and creaked as its mammoth branches were bent by the rising storm. Martha's flock was easy to track by looking at the places where her goats had chomped down on the moss, vines, and fungi that grew everywhere on this part of the Tree. After a quarter turn of the glass, he saw Martha and her flock. She looked slightly panicked, covered in sweat and with her frizzy red hair sticking out every which way from under her bandana. Her goats were nervous, surging this way and that as Martha and her herding spider did their best to keep them under control.

"Reg, what's happening?" she hollered as soon as he was close.

"Mist storm!" he answered. "Ankie and I will take the left flank and you get the right. We need to move!"

With two herders and their spiders, they were able to get the goats moving in the right direction. Upset bleats filled the air as the goats voiced their panic, but at least they were moving in the right direction. Reg wanted to bleat in panic too: Barkle had sounded calm, but Reg knew full well that a mist storm in a village was dangerous enough; one that caught only the three of them by surprise was going to be much worse.

The Tree's groans and creaks were getting louder and louder. It was starting to be hard to hear Martha's shouts from the right as they chivvied the goats along. He took a quick glance over the edge of their branch when he got close to the side and could barely see the next branch down.

"Martha", he started to yell, "We need to speed up." They were close to the burl now and could see the shape of Barkle standing outside the penned-in herd. Reg felt a great sense of relief... right as the Mist flowed up to engulf them and the whole world.

The first thing Reg felt as the waves of Mist rolled over him was damp. Nothing else seemed to change: he didn't feel his body twisting or changing, he felt normal, and he didn't see any mist twists or monsters lurking about. He slowed down and then took a quarter turn to the left. He had been going somewhere. Somewhere important. Somewhere safe. And that direction had a particularly good feel to it; it must have been what he was heading to. He started to whistle as he strolled in the direction that was calling to him. Ankie was getting in the way, waving her pedipalps at him.

"Stop it girl, we want to head this way. It'll be safe." That only increased her agitation and she nipped at him as if he were a goat. Reg paused: he had a good feeling about heading this way, but Ankie was the best spider on the Tree and it wouldn't hurt to go where she wanted to go first. He let her herd him back to the rest of goats and to the pen.

When they reached the pen, Reg was glad to see that Martha and Barkle were there and had already penned Martha's goats. As soon as Reg was close, Barkle glared at him through the damp mist and said, "Reg, what fool thing were you doing? Too lazy to help us pen the critters?"

Reg answered easily, "It feels like there's a safe place that way. I was going to check it out."

Martha looked horrified, "Reg, there's nothing but open air that way. This isn't a wide branch."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in and when they did, Reg felt the compulsion loosen. He'd almost walked off the branch to his death. If Ankie hadn't been there and he hadn't trusted her, he'd have happily kept walking in the direction that felt right. He reached out for Ankie and gave her a good rub on the back of her abdomen the way that she loved, "Thanks, Ankie. Such a good girl."

Barkle put his hand on Reg's shoulder, "The Mist twists the minds of those in it. If you have any sudden ideas, run them by me and the girl. The three of us likely won't have our minds turned the same way."

Martha nodded, "Barkle stopped me from killing one of the goats to try divining things from its entrails. I don't know any haruspicy, but I was convinced that I could figure it out." She gave a strained laugh, "Reg, maybe we should try it. If we could divine what's going to happen that'd be useful, right?"

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Reg looked at her, "I think Barkle is right about this one. Barkle, what do we need to do now?"

Barkle looked at the two of them, "First off, we stick together. No wandering off. First danger will be nearby critters fleeing. We'll just try and scare 'em off. If we get unlucky and a mist twist comes our way, we'll fight it off. Simple."

Barkle started asking both of them questions: "What's your favorite throwball team?", "What kind of spider is best for herding?", and "If you could go to Nest'eff, what kind of magic would you study?" Reg noticed Barkle glowering slightly less fiercely when Martha and Reg started arguing about the merits of Cribellum vs. Portia spiders for herding. Martha was of the obviously idiotic opinion that a well trained cribellum like her Nisa could hold a candle to a portia like Ankie.

He turned to Barkle, "You're trying to distract us?"

Barkle growled, "Yup. Best not think about what might come. That's how folks end up panicking. And Reg, a portia ain't got nothing on a trapdoor. Portia might be smart, but all those smarts go towards figuring out how to eat the flock. Plus, they're tiny and are always hopping around like little maniacs. Trapdoors are calm and that's what you need more than anything out here."

He then turned and shot an arrow towards a chymera-cat that had been creeping closer to them and scurried off once an arrow creased its scaly flank. The three herders settled down and did their best to keep their minds off the storm by rehashing familiar arguments about spider breeds, who the greatest circle dueler of all time was, and whether magicless throwball was a legitimate sport.

Vision in the mist was low and got worse as the storm engulfed them more fully. It was hard to see more than 10 meters away. They could hear but not see the flight of the branch creatures that they heard crashing through the underbrush. Reg, Barkle, and Martha shouted and waved their arms at the branch creatures that got too close. None of the predators were interested in hunting any of the goats, just in flight.

As the hours passed by, it got darker and darker. Reg kept hearing whispers that he could almost understand. He kept having the thought that if he had better ears, maybe like Martha's, that he'd be able to understand the secret they were trying to tell him. His hand would dart to his knife before realizing that, no, he wasn't going to cut off one of Martha's ears to try to hear better. Barkle kept twitching from side to side and brandishing his quarterstaff at things that Reg couldn't see. Muscles from a life of manual labor stood out on his arms. Martha had started a small fire to warm them and was staring into its depths with her hands covering her ears. She was humming a nursery rhyme and weeping softly. Reg wanted to comfort her, but didn't trust himself to go closer to her while he could hear those tantalizing whispers.

When the young boy walked towards them out of the Mist, it was almost a relief: they didn't have to wait for monsters to come roaring out of the mist because one was here. Even if Reg didn't know the stories of what lurked within the Mist, seeing Ankie and the other herding spiders' reactions to the child would make him pause; all the spiders had reared back on their back six legs and here hissing at him. The boy was dressed in fine clothes with lace at the sleeves and collar. He had short brown hair and a plain face with a cheery smile on it. As he got closer he addressed them: "I'm lost and lonely. Can I stay here with you?"

Barkle was the first to find his voice "No, mist-twist. You cannot stay here. Begone."

The child smiled even wider and kept walking towards them: "No, I want to stay here. I can make this place a bit more homey for all of us."

As he took his next step, Barkle stabbed out with his quarterstaff and hit the child in the throat. The blow was swift and sure, but it was as if Barkle had used his quarterstaff to strike the side of a house. The quarterstaff almost jumped out of his hands and the child's only reaction was to smile wider and continue his slow walk towards the three of them.

Reg scrambled back and fumbled a bullet into his sling. His first shot missed badly and almost hit Ankie who was trying to nip at the mist-twist's heels. The child was wrestling for the quarterstaff with Barkle and winning. Despite weighing about 10 stone more than the boy, Barkle was on one knee, struggling to hold on to his weapon. Martha hadn't reacted to anything and was continuing to stare into the fire and hum to herself. Reg slowed down when loading his second bullet: panic wouldn't help. It was just like when a chymera-cat was trying to grab a goat: panic didn't help your aim at all. He pictured the boy's head being replaced by the small target that he normally practiced with and let his second bullet loose. This one flew true and struck the boy in his left eye. The boy paused and then with a casual gesture fully ripped the quarterstaff away from Barkle and then swung it into Barkle's knee. There was a pop and a scream as Barkle collapsed. The boy then dropped the quarterstaff on the ground and started stalking towards Reg.

Despite the sling bullet and the quarterstaff blow, the boy was completely uninjured. Even his clothes were untouched. Reg started to load a third bullet into his sling and then dropped it: their weapons weren't working. If only he'd ever been able to figure out simple cantrips, that might help. Or if they had a magic weapon? But those were only for Achivian Guards and Thornbound, not for simple herders. Maybe Barkle or Martha were less useless with cantrips than he was? He looked around: Ankie was still trying to distract the boy from behind, but being completely ignored; Barkle was grabbing his bow to try and line up a shot; Martha was staring into the fire. The fire! Some animals didn't like fire, maybe the mist-twist wouldn't either? Martha didn't react when Reg yelled her name, so he sprinted over and grabbed a short stick from the fire and hurled it towards the boy. For the first time, the boy took a step back. He then stepped around the burning stick before continuing towards Reg.

Reg grabbed another stick out of the fire and brandished it at the boy. The boy seemed more cautious, but still intent. As he got closer, Reg noticed that the boy was salivating.

Reg had fast reflexes, faster than anybody he knew, and it had served him in good stead in circle duels in school growing up. Even so, when the boy lunged for his leg, he was moving so quickly that Reg was almost unable to jerk himself out of the way. As he dodged, moving faster than he'd ever moved before, he swung out with his small stick and hit the boy across his face. The burning stick cut a hole through the boy’s face that revealed an inside full of black ichor.

"That wasn't very nice. We have to make this more homey, don't we?"

In the background, Reg saw that Martha had come to her senses and looked to be building up the fire. Barkle seemed struck again by madness: he'd taken off his shirt and was yelling at Martha to empty his pack.

Reg looked at the boy mist-twist. The mist twist was looking at the burning branch and Reg realized that the twist only needed to wait for the branch to go out before it could grab him. It had nearly gotten him despite his weapon, and after the mist twist's lunge and Reg's desperate dodge, the mist twist was standing between him and the fire. The smile came back to the twist's face, "Things will be more homey soon. Just wait and see."

Reg tried to circle to the right to get closer to the fire, but as soon as he did, the twist lunged for him and a desperate back-pedal was all that saved him. He swung his burning branch wildly, but the mist twist easily avoided it and the twist's smile got larger and larger as he saw the branch's fire dwindling.

From behind the mist twist, Reg saw hope. Barkle had doused his shirt in something flammable and tied it tightly around one end of the staff. Martha had the flaming quarterstaff and was sneaking up behind the twist. Reg did his best to not let any reaction show and keep the mist twist distracted for a few more seconds. Right as Martha swung the staff down towards the twist's head, it sensed it somehow and leapt to the side, so Martha only grazed its flank

"Naughty, naughty. This doesn't feel like home. I'll go find somewhere else." With that, it straightened the lace at its collar and walked backwards into the mist, its eyes fixed on the flaming quarterstaff.

It took a few long minutes before the three herders were convinced that the mist twist wasn't going to come back out of the mist. They built up the fire as much as they could and started putting together a splint for Barkle's leg. The adrenaline and having a trunk-solid task helped all of them ignore the shapes they saw out of the corners of their eyes and the mad ideas that flitted through their heads. Barkle was stoic as his leg was splinted, and took a large swig from the remains of the flammable liquid that he'd soaked his shirt in before offering it to both of the younger herders. "Good work, both of you. Good thinking with the fire, Reg. Glad I brought some booze to survive a summer herding out here with you two youngins."

Martha took a small sip and started coughing. "Ugh, no wonder that burned so well."

She passed it to Reg, who took a large manly swallow, and then immediately spat it back out on the barky ground.

Barkle laughed and gestured for him to pass the bottle back. "My first time with purified moss-wine was like that." The laughter helped make the mist feel lighter, and the group spent the next few hours waiting for more monsters to loom out of the mist before the storm ended and the light of moons illuminated the burl that the herders and their flock had been sheltering by. The goats started bleating again, and the three tired herders finally relaxed.