Mika stood in the practice pen for the first time in weeks. Her magical ability had improved dramatically, and Reka had finally given in to Papa’s constant demands for her to resume her training. Martin was now so much better than her that she hated these sessions more than ever. He had just finished disarming her for the third time in a row. Without thinking, she formed the image of the hawk and pulled on her magic. The snow beneath Martin’s feet melted and refroze so quickly that he hadn’t had time to sink below the surface. He tried to step off the ice but slipped and fell hard. She could not contain her laughter.

“Mika,” Papa yelled, “What do you think you are doing?”

“She is being what she is,” Reka answered, walking toward the pen.

Mika groaned. Reka always defended her in front of Papa when she did something wrong with magic, but she knew once they were alone, he would chastise her about using magic when she should be learning how to fight correctly. The look on Martin’s face was worth it. She still hadn’t forgiven him for how he talked about Alexis.

“I suppose you’ve come to take her away again?” Papa asked.

“I have,” Reka said simply. “Come along Mika, we are going on a little trip.”

“A trip? Where to?” She asked.

“It is time for you to begin training with stones; we are going to collect some.”

She looked around. “Why do we need to take a trip, aren’t there plenty of stones around here?”

“There are, but if we go in search of them, the journey will add meaning to the ones we deem worthy enough to collect.”

“You mean, like how you said gems are easier to use than rocks?” She asked.

“Exactly,” he replied.

“Where will we find them?”

“Anywhere,” he said, “but I thought we would try the river. River stones tend to be more colorful and interesting.”

She could tell by his tone that he was getting impatient. She hurried into the house and grabbed her heavy coat. It wasn’t practical to wear it when she was training, and the heavy workload made it unnecessary in any case. For a long walk, though, she knew she would need it. She paused briefly and considered changing into one of her dresses. She shook her head; it was too cold for a dress.

Reka was waiting by the door for her. He held out a few pouches.

“There are three bags here. The largest is for stones you find to be common, the second largest for interesting ones, and the smallest is for the truly exceptional.”

“I thought you said all stones were the same?” She asked.

“In theory, yes,” he said. “I hate to prejudice you so early in your training, but don’t forget imagination is a key component to magic. If you imagine a stone to be more powerful, it will be.”

She didn’t know what prejudice meant, but she decided not to ask. Another question did occur to her, however.

“Does it matter how big the stone is?” She asked.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “That is one of the reasons stone singers are so powerful. In magic, the larger and more complex an object, or life, the more power it can hold. Stones, being the essence of the earth, can hold far more for their size. It allows us to carry around a lot of power without being weighed down by bulky vessels.”

“So, a large stone holds more power than a small one?” She asked.

“You have a knack for asking complex questions,” he said with a smile. “In general, yes, but not every mage can transfer that power with the same efficiency. We will cover that in more detail once we begin training. Now it is time we are off. The morning is already late, and we should not dawdle beyond dark.”

They walked along the path toward the swamp road. She knew it was the fastest way to the river, and she was no longer afraid of it, but she still felt uneasy. She had not forgotten the longing she had felt the last time. Even now, the thought of going near the swamp made the feeling return.

It wasn’t long before she regretted bringing her heavy coat. Reka was setting a quick pace, and she was starting to feel hot. The grey clouds that had dominated the sky for so long were gone, and the sun shone bright and clear. Snow still covered the ground, and it reflected the sunlight, making it hard to look at. She loved winter. Not only was it usually a break from the farm, but it was so peaceful and quiet. It was as if the world had covered itself in a large white blanket and gone to sleep. The crisp air filled her lungs as she tried to keep pace with Reka. It invigorated her.

When they reached the swamp road, she looked out at the depressing waters. Only it wasn’t depressing at all. The shallow, stagnant waters had taken little time to freeze over and were now covered in their own layer of snow. The thorn trees were coated in icicles, and they looked like glass sculptures. It was captivating to look at.

“It’s so pretty,” she said.

Reka rubbed his arms. “Not pretty enough. I’d like to burn the whole thing down.”

She guessed she could understand. One of Papa’s horses had bitten her once. No matter how pretty she thought horses were, she still wanted to hit every one she saw. They lingered for a moment, and then Reka motioned for them to continue. Their pace slowed now that they were on the road. As they approached where she and Papa had stopped, the desire to go into the swamp overwhelmed her. She stopped at the edge of the water and stared out at it. Now that they were further along, and the swamp was deeper, the ice did not completely cover its surface. The surface rippled slightly beyond the edge of the ice. The water beckoned her. She took a step forward and was hauled back by Reka.

“Mika,” he said sharply. “Where do you think you are going?”

She shook her head. She hadn’t realized she had started moving until Reka pulled her back. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just felt like…going in, I guess.”

The look on Reka’s face confused her. She couldn’t tell if he was happy or angry. “Make sure you do not,” he said at last. “That is a dangerous place.”

He ushered her away from the edge, and they continued. As they got farther away, the desire to enter the swamp lessened. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she could tell Reka was worried about it. He kept looking at the water and mumbling to himself. She tried to gather the courage to ask, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It was a relief when they made it to the river.

They followed the edge of the river east until they reached a bend where it widened. The land sloped gradually to the edge. The flow of the water was lethargic as it made its way to the end of the bend. A sizeable rocky beach bordered the river. They made their way to it.

“This area is underwater during the spring and summer, we should find some good stones here,” Reka said.

Mika looked at the landscape. The snow made it difficult to see any but the most massive rocks. “How are we going to find anything in this,” she said, kicking a large clump from a rock.

“I did not say it would be easy,” Reka said. “Remember, it is the journey that makes the stones we find valuable.” He shuffled his feet and cleared a large patch of ground. Picking up stones at random, he started working.

She followed his lead. When she had a patch of ground uncovered, she looked down dismayed. There must be hundreds of rocks here, she thought.

“How do I know which ones to take?” She asked.

Reka looked up from his task. “You take the ones you want.”

Now that they weren’t moving, she was starting to get cold. The light sheen of perspiration on her face seemed to be attracting the cold air like a moth to a flame. She wanted to take them all and go home. She watched Reka for a while. He would pick up a rock, examine it for a while, then either toss it back onto the ground or put it in a pouch. She saw that he threw most of the stones away. With her hands already numb from the cold, she started sorting.

She grabbed a handful and looked at them carefully. They were all smooth and rounded, but the color was dull and lifeless. She was about to toss them aside when she noticed one with little lines running through it. She picked it out and dropped the rest. It looked layered like someone had put a bunch of rocks on top of one another. The colors were fascinating. There were layers of deep purple, moss green, dull brown, and even some black. All throughout the stone, little flecks glittered in the light. This was definitely worth keeping. The discovery spurred her on, and in a very short time, she had a handful of multi-colored stones.

She took her prizes to Reka. He was kneeling near the water. He reached in and scooped up a handful of wet stones. Without even seeming to look at them, he let them drop. His hand went in again, and again, he discarded them all.

“What are you looking for?” She said.

He looked up at her. “I am looking for stones. So far, I have found five. It has been a good trip.”

Her shoulders slumped; she must have twenty by now. She looked at the fruits of her labor again. They were all very pretty. She wondered what she was doing wrong.

“What is the matter?” Reka said.

She held out her trembling hand. “I’ve already got lots of them.”

Reka smiled. “Why does that trouble you?”

“I’ve got so many, and you’ve only got five.” She said.

“And you think you are doing something wrong?” He laughed. “Do not let my failings discourage you. You are still young. You see wonder everywhere, whereas I only see the ordinary. If the stones you have collected seem valuable to you, then they must be.”

She frowned. “I guess so.”

Reka dried his hands and stood. “How many stones have you looked at?”

“I don’t know, tons.” She said

“So,” he said, “out of all those tons, you have managed to find only a handful that suited you?”

“I guess.” She said.

His expression hardened. “Do not guess. There is no room in magic for guesswork. You collected those stones for a reason. What was it?”

She looked at the stones again. “They are, just, pretty. I like them.”

He smiled again. It softened his stern expression. “In that case, the magic will like them also.”

Now, she smiled. She did not care whether the magic liked them, she didn’t have to throw them away. Reka went back to dredging the river with his hands. She sat on the snow-covered ground to sort her stones. She didn’t understand how Reka wanted her to do it, though. After some thought, she decided to sort them by color. There were more than three piles. The layered stone sat alone.

Remembering Reka’s words, she divided the piles by size. She had one pile for tiny stones and another for larger ones. She knew she was supposed to have three piles, but she could not force herself to add even a single stone with her layered treasure. Her hand reached for it on reflex. She did not arrest the movement. Instead, she snatched it up and dropped in her smallest pouch. She filled the other pouches with the two remaining piles.

“Very good,” Reka said. “I think we should go back now.”

She peered at the sun. It stood well past the halfway point. They were not going to make it home before dark. Her backside was numb, and her legs were stiff, but she managed to stand.

“Did you find any more?” She said.

His smile was still there. She liked seeing it. “I found five more than I expected I would. That is enough for me.”

They walked back to the road. When they reached it, their pace did not increase.

“Shouldn’t we hurry?” She said.

Reka looked at the sun now. “No point. We are not going to make it by dark. Why risk hurting ourselves if we do not need to?”

The stones in her pouch clicked against one another in time with her steps. The rhythmic tapping soothed her. The world melted away in that sound. Click, Click, Click. Her feet led the way, and she followed in bliss. Click, Click, Click. She walked, unaware, to the edge of the swamp. Click, Click, Click. Her foot touched the frozen water.

“Mika!” Reka said.

She jerked her shoulder away as a hand tried to grab it.

“Mika, stop!” Reka said.

The clicking stopped. She shook her head, dazed. When the turned around, Reka was standing in front of her. His face was pale.

“I thought I could do it!” He said. “I can’t! Please, Mika, step back.”

The longing had returned. She tried to fight it. Her legs, unbidden, stepped backward toward the swamp. Reka reached for her, and she formed the image of the hawk.

The air between them expanded. It threw Reka back. It threw her also. For a moment, she felt like the hawk in truth. She flew through the air, unencumbered by gravity. The feeling shattered as her back struck the water, and the swamp enveloped her.

The icy water assaulted her. It filled her nose, and she clamped her mouth shut. There was no time to take a full breath before she landed. Her heavy coat was weighing her down. No matter how hard she tried to reach the surface, the insistent pull of the garment defeated her. Her back thudded softly against the bottom.

Hoping she was going the right way, she dragged herself along the bottom. Her lungs were on fire. Sediment floated around and obscured her vision. She tried to call the image of the hawk. In her panic, it would not form. She tried to remove her coat; it wouldn’t budge. Finally, she gave up. On the verge of inhaling the deadly water, a strong current swept her away.

Her panic redoubled. She grabbed at the water, hoping to find anything to hold onto. Strangler weeds passed through her hands as she sped by them. They ripped lines of flesh from her palms. She could not hold her breath any longer. Her leg caught something, and her progress stopped. She needed air. What was it Reka had said? Desire is either there, or it isn’t. In the calm of acceptance, the hawk leaped into her mind.

Now she needed imagination. She would have loved to imagine a way out of the swamp. Air, however, was all she could think of. The water fled from her as a bubble formed around her. Her chest exploded in a massive exhale. She breathed in. Her body responded to the life-affirming air by sending her into a fit of coughs and gasps.

She tried to take in her surroundings, but the water was black as coal. She could no longer feel the current. Something was still trapping her leg. She thought about how Reka liked to light the candles at home to impress her. She wanted that light, needed that light. Her protective bubble began to emit a slight glow.

It illuminated a small area around her. She saw that a branch held her leg firmly in place. She tried to wriggle free. It felt like the branch was trying to keep her in place. The more she struggled, the tighter it seemed to hold on. She looked around for anything that might help, and then she saw her.

She couldn’t think. She forgot to breathe. The only thing that existed for her at that moment was her mother. She was beautiful. As beautiful as Mika had ever seen her. The water held her suspended in place. Her face was peaceful, and Mika had only one thought. Why wasn’t she afraid? She knew she should be, or at least sad. She felt neither emotion.

A small ripple of current ran through the swamp. It pushed her mother’s hand toward her, and clutched in her perfect fingers was Papa’s pendant. She reached for it. As soon as her hand left her protective bubble, the water rushed back in.

She grabbed the pendant. The branch that held her leg let go of its grip, and the current swept her away again. Her mother disappeared into the blackness. She could have sworn she heard her say, “goodbye.”

A hand grabbed her coat and hauled her out of the water. She shivered uncontrollably. The image of her mother still lingered in her eyes.

“Come on, child,” Reka said. “We need to get you out of this water and get you warm.”

She resisted his efforts. She wanted to see her mother again, wanted to say goodbye back. The frigid water gave way to solid ground as Reka dragged her away.

“I saw her!” She said. “I saw her!”

Reka set a red stone on the ground between them. It immediately radiated heat.

“Who did you see?” He said.

“Mama!” She said. “I saw Mama! Let me go, let me go! I want to go back!”

“No, child,” he said. “Please, stay still. You need to get warm.”

Fatigue overcame her, and she sagged against him. She wanted to go back. She just didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. She opened her hand. Papa’s pendant fell to the ground.