The stranger was a woman—apparently human. I was somewhat doubtful on that part, but I didn't know if it was polite to ask. She had long dark hair and crystal blue eyes, with a face that was strong and angular. She stood near the river's edge, leaning against the boulder that I had been struck against.
"Who are you?" Mother rasped, gripping me close to her.
The woman pursed her lips, giving it some thought. "I suppose you can call me Wake."
There was something about the way that she said the word that instantly transformed it in my mind into a breathtaking image. I visualized pure mountain water flowing from a spring, giving life to all that it passed. I saw all sorts of water life swimming along the currents, with the ripples of their movement lasting a mere moment before all signs of their existence disappeared.
What a small name for such a beautiful thing.
Wake's eyes were fixed on me as I went through that thought process. A satisfied smile curved her lips and she nodded to herself.
Mother seemed oblivious to this exchange. Perhaps to her, the name was just a name.
"What do you want with us?" she demanded.
Wake raised her hands in a soothing gesture. "I only came to see if you needed healing. That is something that is free to offer, even during times of conflict."
I instinctually believed her, but Mother appeared uncertain. I put my hand on her arm and urged her. "Are you hurt, Mother?"
She didn't answer, so I offered myself to the stranger. "I could use some healing, please."
Mother's entire body tensed, but she didn't stop Wake from approaching me. The tips of her fingers brushed over me, examining my wounds by touch.
"I'm surprised you aren't hurt more," Wake commented. "That nokk hit you hard."
I nodded. "I'm pretty sturdy."
She chuckled. "Most trees are."
I frowned, tilting my head to the side. "Trees?"
Wake raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a tree tiernan child?"
"Oh," I said, suddenly feeling foolish for not making that connection before. "I guess I am."
"We water tiernan aren't so durable," she commented. "What is your name?"
"Tiff," I answered readily.
Her eyes settled on me. "But what is your name?"
I hesitated.
Did she mean a tiernan name? As far as I knew, I didn't have one of those. Was I supposed to have one? How did I go about getting one? Had my father given me one? Do I choose it for myself?
My mind finally turned to my namesake Auntie—the only family I had ever known, other than Mother. I thought about the love in her heart and the kindness in her actions. I thought of her courage in standing up to the rest of the clan by taking us in when we had been thrown out. I thought about her painstaking efforts to teach us how to survive, no matter the circumstances.
My name was to honor her, and all that she was.
"Theophana," I said, filling the word with every memory I had of that incredible woman.
Wake smiled, looking pleased. "An extraordinary name," she acknowledged.
"My name is Evangeline," Mother added reluctantly.
I had always thought that she had a beautiful name, but somehow it sounded lifeless at that moment.
I suddenly found myself wondering about my father's name. The stories I'd been told called him Linden, but I realized that was just what my mother had called him. I wished that I could meet him so he could tell me his name.
"May I heal your wounds, Evangeline?" Wake asked.
Mother slowly nodded, allowing herself to be touched as well. She gasped and shuddered as her bruises and cuts mended. I frowned as I watched. I hadn't even noticed when Wake had healed me.
"Why did the nokk disappear?" Mother asked.
Wake chuckled. "He probably tasted your daughter's blood and panicked."
"Panicked?" I repeated.
She laughed again. "He recognized the magic in your blood and probably feared he would be in trouble if he ate you."
"Why would it be in trouble?" Mother probed.
Wake stood up, rubbing her hands together. "Because he didn't know whose side you're on."
"We're not on anyone's side," she protested.
"I guess the nokk wouldn't know that," I pointed out.
Wake grinned and ruffled my hair. "Exactly."
Mother and I also got to our feet, although she was shakier doing so. She tried brushing the mud from her wet clothes, but it didn't make much difference. I didn't bother with it, since I didn't mind being dirty.
"Why have you come to this mountain?" Wake asked.
"We're looking for alpine clusters," Mother explained.
"What are those?"
I had a sudden idea and I tried it before wondering if it would work. "Alpine clusters," I repeated, but I thought about the description I'd been given of the plant while I said the words.
Wake's expression cleared. "Oh, that."
"Do you know where we can find some?" I asked hopefully.
She shrugged. "They don't grow by water, so I could only guess where they might be."
I clasped my hands together, using the most beseeching expression I could muster. "Could you show us?"
Wake took one glance at me and burst into laughter. "Very human of you."
I laughed, too.
Mother looked at both of us, but she didn't smile along. "Could you show us the way? We'd be so grateful."
Wake crossed her arms, humming to herself. The sound of her voice blended with the rushing of the water next to us. I could tell from her expression that she was weighing the matter carefully.
"It's far from the river," she pointed out. "The farther I am from water, the weaker I become."
I felt a spike of anxiety shoot through my abdomen. "Would it hurt you?"
Her eyes narrowed. "It would feel unpleasant. The damage wouldn't be lasting. I suppose if we go high enough up the mountain we would get closer to the lake…"
"What about the war?" Mother asked. "Would we be in danger?"
"War?" Wake scoffed. "That is something only humans have. Tiernan don't fight wars."
She made an impatient sound. "Would we be in danger?" she repeated.
"Conflict often includes danger of some sort," Wake acknowledged, "but I know which areas to avoid."
I bounced on the balls of my feet. "Does that mean you'll show us the way?"
Wake's lips pressed into a thin line. "That doesn't mean you'd be safe," she admonished. "I wouldn't be entirely safe either."
I knew that was true. We were asking her to take a risk purely for our sake. She had only just met us, so she had no reason to help. I knew it was a selfish request, but I couldn't help making it. There was no denying that we'd be safer—and more likely to be successful—with her to accompany us.
"What if we did a trade?" I offered.
She looked distinctly amused. "What could you possibly have that I would want?"
"Our help," I answered simply. "Next time you need help with something, you can ask us and we'll come."
Mother reached over and gripped my hand. I frowned in confusion when I glanced over and saw the alarm in her eyes.
"Now that is an interesting promise," Wake mused. "If you truly mean it, I will accept this trade."
My mother gave a small shake of her head, but I couldn't see why it would be a problem. Isn't the most basic form of trade to exchange services? "Of course, I mean it," I chirped.
"It's a pact, then," Wake announced. "Let's find your plant as soon as possible."
"Well, at least we agree on that," Mother muttered under her breath.
I continued to frown as we followed Wake back into the trees. I didn't understand why my mother looked both exasperated and worried.
"What's wrong?" I asked in a whisper.
She gave a curt shake of her head. "What's wrong is that I have a fool for a daughter."
I straightened indignantly. "What did I do?"
"You made a promise when you have no idea what it will entail in the future," she scolded.
I snorted. "She won't ask me to do anything bad."
"How do you know?" Mother hissed. "You don't know anything about her. We don't know her motives or her part in this conflict. You've promised to do anything she asks, T'phani. That's dangerous."
I didn't want to admit that I'd acted rashly. I also couldn't explain the natural trust I felt for the water tiernan. Maybe my mother was right and I'd made a grave error, but I didn't think that was the case.
I marched ahead with a huff. I might as well walk with the person who wasn't going to reprimand me.
Wake smiled down at me as I appeared at her side. "How many seasons have you seen, young one?"
"I was born during winter," I told her. "Soon I'll be twelve years old."
She nodded. "Very young for a tiernan."
"Really?" I asked. "How long does it take for a tiernan to grow up?"
She chuckled. "I suppose that depends on what you consider to be grown-up. Do you mean when the body finishes growing? Or when all development is complete?"
I squinted at the ground. "I'm…not sure. When are you considered an adult?"
Wake cocked her head slightly. "Most tiernan are considered adults after a few decades. I wouldn't say there is a definite age when it happens, though."
"A few decades," I squawked. "That's so old!"
Her laughter danced among the trees. "Is it?"
I gestured widely with my hands. "That's almost half of a human lifetime! Most humans only live to be around eighty years old."
Wake's eyes widened. "So short a time? How sad."
"How long do tiernan live?" I inquired.
"We don't die from age," she told me. "After all, it doesn't matter how old a river is, as long as it continues to flow."
"But they can still die?"
"Yes, it happens," she said slowly.
"What causes them to die?" I pressed.
Wake walked in silence for several moments before answering. "Humans."
I stumbled over a dip in the path. "Oh."
"That's why there's so much resentment for them," she explained. "And, that's why it's increasingly rare to see a child that has a tiernan parent and a human parent. Your father must be unique."
I shrugged uncomfortably, glancing over my shoulder at my mother. "I don't know. I've never met him."
I tried to make my voice casual, but I also spoke quieter. I didn't want to hurt my mother's feelings, and I never knew exactly how indifferent I needed to sound for her to be at ease.
"You've never met him?" Wake repeated. She frowned. "Do you stay in a human village?"
I shook my head. "No, we live in the woods alone."
"Then, why…?"
I leaned down to pick up a stick in our path. "He left before I was born. He said he never stays anywhere for long."
Understanding broke across her face. "Ah. He's a wanderer. That makes sense now."
The way she said wanderer filled my mind with pictures again. I saw a solitary tiernan walking without rest. He touched every tree he could find, nursing its vitality with his own. Once he had blessed each tree, he moved on to find others.
"That also explains why he has no resentment for humans," she went on. "Wanderers don't stay anywhere long enough to see the impact that humans have on the natural world."
"Is it really so bad?" I asked in a small voice.
"Yes," Wake said bluntly. "Not all humans, of course, but most of them. Humans used to worship us and devote their lives to nurturing the world. Now they curse our kind and try to make everything their own. They act as if a river is theirs when they don't even listen to its voice."
"We are just trying to survive," Mother said from behind us. "It's just that we don't have anyone to teach us how to do that in harmony with others."
I hadn't realized that she was so close to us. I moved to the side to make room for her to walk next to us, should she choose to.
Wake made an impatient sound. "Your ancestors knew everything they needed to live in such harmony. They taught their children, but their grandchildren refused to listen."
Mother didn't catch up to walk next to us. She kept her pace, two steps behind. "I suppose you're right," she acknowledged quietly, studying the ground with sad eyes.
"You must be an unusual human, though, if a tiernan chose to father a child with you," Wake admitted. "What is his name? I don't know many wanderers, but maybe I have heard of him."
She hesitated before she shook her head. "He said he didn't have a name."
I knew that she'd never say that the Linden from her stories was also my father. She liked to pretend that he was just a character she made up instead of the one who had left her behind. That way she could give the story a happy ending.
Wake studied her for several moments, looking thoughtful. "Well," she finally said, "it's too bad that your daughter doesn't know her father. It is his loss, as well as hers."
Mother made a soft noise of agreement, but didn't talk anymore. I was about to speak over the uncomfortable silence when Wake made a sharp motion with her hand.
We all came to an abrupt stop, breathing as quietly as we were able.
Wake motioned for us to move off the path. She led us to a cluster of trees with enough greenery around the ground to give us a place to hide.
"What is it?" Mother asked, barely whispering.
"Hoaks," the water tiernan replied, equally quiet.
I had heard the name of the little mischievous creatures before, but I'd never seen one with my own eyes. However, as before, Wake's voice implanted images in my brain. I suddenly knew that hoaks were not simply pranksters. They were spies, soldiers, and servants to greater magical powers.
And they were headed our way.