I started on the left hand path and let the wind spirits tug me where they willed. Sometimes there were multiple tugs all at once, but I always followed the most insistent sprite. It didn’t take them long to lead me off the path and into open air. I fell and the wind spirits caught me before placing me back on the starting platform.

I did the same thing with center and right hand paths. Each attempt ended up the same way. I tested them all again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, but from what I could tell the wind sprites seemed to lead me off the paths around the same point. Apparently, there was something I was missing to pass the first checkpoint no matter which one I took. It wouldn’t surprise me if I was supposed to ignore some the wind sprites signals as well as determine which tug was the correct one when they all pulled at once. After all, blindly trusting the loudest voice wasn’t so much as communication as ignorant stupidity.

The trouble was determining how to know which tug was the correct one or if they were all wrong. I could test out each one in turn until I found the correct one and then do the same for the rest of the check points that were bound to follow, which had its appeal until I did test that, only to find out that the wind sprites were inconsistent creatures who weren’t very good at keeping everything the same each time I attempted to walk the paths. Sometimes when they pulled all at once on me there was only three tugs, other times dozens. Sometimes they pulled all over on my clothes, hair, skin, but then other times they would only pull on my tunic or fingers. Sometimes there was clearly one very enthusiastic spirit and other times it seemed like they had all gotten tired and barely pulled at all or were having a contest of strength so it was difficult to determine which was actually the strongest pull. So on and so forth.

I couldn’t rule anything out purely on trial and error because the parameters of each attempt changed wildly from one instance to another. The only consistent thing was that I I felt like they were giving me around the same amount of time before they led me off the paths. If I walked slow, they would lead me off the path before I got as far as I had previously, but once I had memorized the turns in the paths and was quick about it I could get farther along before they shoved me off into open air.

That didn’t stop me from walking straight off the paths more than once as I guessed which way they might turn and how tight a turn it might be. Each time my stomach lurched as my foot suddenly had nothing to land on, but I didn’t scream. There wasn’t much point in wasting my breath since it was up to the wind spirits if they caught me or let me fall, and everyone else in the maze of the spirits’ home were as blind I was without much hope of reaching me before I lost my balance.

Instead, I used the air time to mark out my mental map of the paths. I used my memory tent as the stand in for the starting platform and I tied three different colored fishing lines to the tent’s front, like the long spools the huntresses would use when we had to search out new paths through Flickermark—though theirs were all the same greenish brown. I made mine a golden yellow for the left hand path since the spirits always seemed a bit more eager to push me off into open air on that path; a dark green for the middle path since it twisted and curved around the others like a vine; and the right hand path was a washed out red for the way it seemed to be the one that plunged downward the quickest, only for it to quickly reverse course. A false victory.

I tied specialty knots into the fishing lines to mark the corners and which way they turned, marked the distance between them by the length of my line. It didn’t long before I could walk the beginning of each path accurately, blindfold or no, and it didn’t take long for the spirits to realize it. They started trying to throw me off track more, pulling me to the side where there was no corner, cushioning the bottom of my foot to trick me into thinking I stepped into open air, pulling the tie holding my braid in place free so I suddenly had hair going everywhere, flung petal and leaves at me, and just generally tried their best to be a nuisance.

I still walked where the path was. Once I knew their tricks I just had to push past and ignore them, but they still shoved me off the side of the path once my time was up. And I couldn’t help but feel like I was brute forcing my way past the whole point of this trial—which likely wasn’t the way to reach the Mother Spring.

So the next time I reached the first point where the wind sprites started tugging in all different directions on the left hand, I laid down. They paused for a moment, like they were surprised, before the wind picked up and more spirits joined in on the fun. They couldn’t move me as easily though in my new position—which made me tempted to crawl my way down the paths even it’d be undignified, but I ultimately put aside the idea for now since it would only exacerbate my current problem of ignoring the wind spirits rather than communicating with them.

They hit me with the gale force wind that I had watched fling so many other seedlings into open air when my time limit hit but I hunkered down and managed to keep my spot on the path. I didn’t doubt that they could have blown me off if they really tried, but they seemed to be keeping to the agreement to only use “gentler” winds.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I stayed where I was, trying to sort out if there was any consistent sign I could use to determine the best course of action when the spirits tugged in all directions, until another seedling stepped on me. She screamed, I reflexively pushed her off me, and then her voice got more distant as she plunged off the side of the path. She started cursing me as the spirits dragged her back to the starting platform and I debated for a moment, before sighing and sprinting down the length of the path I had memorized. Then I flung myself into the void, so the wind spirits were obligated to also bring me back to starting platform.

I didn’t need Loclen to know I had just ruined her attempt. She could hold a grudge and I didn’t want another obstacle between me and my goal. So, between my quick change in location and the other girls being ferried back to the platform, she shouldn’t be able to tell that I was the one she had stepped on. She was still trying to figure it out though when I tugged off my blindfold. Loclen gave me a suspicious glance which I returned with my usual disinterested attitude.

“You weren’t doing something stupid just now, were you?” she asked.

I huffed out an annoyed sigh. “No. Were you?”

She glowered at all the seedlings around us. “I was minding my own business, trying to pass the trial, when someone who was dumb enough to lay down in the middle of the path shoved me off the side.”

The less confrontational seedlings wouldn’t meet her gaze, but Idra and a couple of the other seedlings from the younger cohort thought that was hilarious. She crossed her arms. “We shouldn’t interfere with each others’ trials.”

I shrugged. “Maybe not, but also maybe next time you could get the wind spirits to tell you something is in the way.”

Her gaze sharpened. “You—”

Wren came from out of the small crowd that had gathered to slip an arm around her shoulders. “No one likes being stepped on, no one wants to fall more then we have to. Let’s leave it at that and”—her gaze caught mine—“maybe we should leave any tactics that might slow us up for when the paths are less crowded.” Wren shrugged as she added, “It’s nearly the evening meal, can’t blame anyone for not thinking clearly on an empty stomach.”

I glowered at her, just a bit, but let her comments pass. Getting into an argument would just cement Loclen’s guess that I was the one she stepped on. So, grudgingly, I let Wren steer me and Loclen out of the wind spirits’ home.

It was shocking to suddenly hear their muffled murmurs and laughter once I was outside the veil. The wind was also actually gentle on the plateau as well. Wren brought Loclen and me to a cook fire where we got some food I barely paid attention to. I stayed as long as it took eat it, made use of the latrine, and then walked back to the opening that led to the starting platform.

I didn’t cross over though. Not yet.

I was missing something and it didn’t take a genius to realize that the fact we could hear the spirits outside their home, but not in it, was likely important for a test of communication. Perhaps it was a test of nonverbal communication? But why would that be the case when the boon we were trying to earn would allow us to speak over large distances? Perhaps we would only hear their voices the further we got along the paths? As way of showing that we were increasing our ability to communicate? That seemed plausible, but why would they still allow us to hear them then when we were outside their home? However muffled it was?

Our voices were muffled inside the spirits’ home while theirs were quiet. Their voices were muffled outside of their home and, since the camp kept a respectful distance from the dome barrier, I couldn’t hear the others here. We were technically silent in what would be our territory.

An interesting duality.

Everything was contained, and yet, not quite fully blocked. Just like the time limit contained how far I could go along the paths, though it didn’t fully limit me. Wind always found a way to slip between the cracks. Perhaps then I should go where the wind spirits weren’t pulling me to go? Slip between the cracks of their tugging?

I wasn’t sure if it could count as communication, but the sprites did seem set on trying to trick us, so perhaps the trick, for now, was realizing they weren’t playing fair and to stop trying to fruitlessly find meaning in their pranks. And perhaps, this would just be another trick, but I had to test it out to be sure.

I stepped back through the dome and started down the left hand path. I had become partial to it ever since it seemed like the spirits were making it more difficult than the other two. Mapping the center and right hand paths could still come in handy, but since I only I had so much time I found myself concentrating on one path once I had mapped all of them as far as I could currently get.

This time when all the spirits tugged on my clothes I focused on the directions they weren’t pulling me in. There were multiple and for a moment I felt my heart sink at the prospect of another strategy not working out. But I concentrated on the differences between them and there was one spot, just one, where the air didn’t move.

And in this place of wind and movement that was as suspicious as it had been on the shore. I moved in the direction of the dead air and caught the tiniest hint of a laugh as it whisked past my ear. The patch of dead air moved all across the stone path as I chased it and the wind spirits did their best to distract me. It was like trying to thread a needle while you walked and toddlers were tugging on your legs, begging to play. My focus slipped as the patch of dead air took me precariously close to the stone path’s edge and the spirits took advantage of the slip, causing me to fall.

Still, I grinned as they brought me back to the starting platform. I had a lead. Rather than trying to follow a bit of wind in a maelstrom of it, I had to train my sensitivity to feel where the wind wasn’t. The stone paths truly were a kind of distraction in their own way, just like the wind spirits’ tugging was.

Whisper women were known for their sensitivity to the wind. Perhaps this was how they learned it.