Considering his mind was always wandering in fanciful directions, Jaren himself might have been prone to believing in tall tales. But the stories Jaren told himself while he walked and worked weren’t fairy tales. They were stories of what might be or what could have been, conversations he wished he’d had or hoped to have one day. Maybe he only felt lost because he was surrounded by three headstrong girls who knew exactly what they wanted. But at eighteen, Jaren still had no idea where he was going.

He was tempted to tell his father just what he thought of this “magic lake.” But he also knew if he didn’t acknowledge his father’s fears, he’d likely send his sisters to do the gathering next time. Jaren hated chopping wood and hunting, the two other duties he might be tasked with.

“I won’t go back,” he said, and he meant it. There was no reason to go so far afield, and besides, he’d slept horribly last night. He vastly preferred his own bed to stones and snowmelt. “But you don’t need to worry, Father. I never saw so much as a squirrel out there. Spring is late this year.”

“It always comes late this far up the mountain,” Summer said, with the air of someone who knew something the rest of the family didn’t.

Sofia shoved a hunk of bread into her mouth. “Says who?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Tadpole,” Story said, elbowing her little sister.

Summer avoided their eyes. “I heard someone say it at the market.”

“It’s that carpenter, isn’t it?” Story grinned, her eyes glinting in the firelight. “I knew you liked him!”

While his sisters teased each other and their father tried to quiet them, Jaren’s mind was filled with a strange, mournful song he couldn’t place. He had no musical ability to speak of, so it wasn’t likely he’d made it up himself. And his mother, though she’d loved to sing, wouldn’t have chosen something so sorrowful.

“Yoo-hoo,” Story called, waving a hand in front of Jaren’s face. “Where did you go?”

He realized his spoon was dangling in front of him, forgotten. “Sorry.”

“You’re clearly exhausted,” their father said. “Get some rest. Your sisters and I will take over your chores for the rest of the day.”

Jaren nodded and mumbled an apology. But, though he did feel exhausted in every fiber of his body, he lay awake for hours, trying to tease out the melody of the strange song in his head.

Chapter Three

Several days later, Sage and Leelo were sent to visit Isola. Her mother, Rosalie, had complained to Fiona and Ketty that Isola had been acting strangely all winter, sullen and tired for no good reason.