Naddnē sat on her heels. Among the rubble of an ancient landslide. Hardy grasses trying to hold on at the high altitude, roots crumbling the broken stone into smaller broken stones. The valley below was her view. Treetops just visible above the milky haze.
The mist. The damn mist. There for almost one hundred years. Since the day she set it free. The day she broke it's bonds, and broke her bond with her people.
The day she left the valley, not by choice.
She remembered that day, and when she thought about it, her belly clenched. As if struck by a knife. Her people did not chase her away. Didn't tell her to go. They simply turned away. She didn't exist to them. This was no longer her home. They were no longer her people. Her family. Her friends.
And now. She had come back. To right her wrong. Return the mist to it's source. Return the valley to it's people.