Title: Mountain Dream
Fandom: original
Rating: G
Length: 455 words
Content notes: prophetic dreams, implied danger to children
Summary: Mountain dreams were meant for the young, those old enough to no longer be children, but young enough to not yet have children of their own. Navila got hers when she was twenty-seven: married, widowed, and mother of three.

Mountain dreams were meant for the young, those old enough to no longer be children, but young enough to not yet have children of their own. Navila got hers when she was twenty-seven: married, widowed, and mother of three. It woke her screaming in the sticky heat of a summer night, and brought all her family rushing to her room to see the fading haze of god-light -- gold as flame, but with no flicker or shadow -- around her ears and eyes.

Fortunately, her law-brother was good with children and herded both his and hers off to stargaze, while her blood-brother bundled her into the kitchen and piled blankets onto her shoulders until she began to feel she might someday remember warmth.

"The gods have horrible timing," Navila remarked as she huddled at the table, mug of richspice clutched between her hands. "And it wasn't even a good dream. Nothing sweet to run towards, only bitterness to run from."

"All the more reason to pay attention," her little brother Aijo said. He sipped his own richspice contemplatively, then added, "Will you take the children, or will you leave them with me and Rathione? We can manage the steading a month or two without you. Or we can come with you as well, if that's more helpful."

Navila stared into the thick red-brown swirls of her drink and picked through the fragments of her dream like sorting a basket of dried beans, tossing out the chaff and the stones and keeping the good food. Fire underwater, a cave filled with god-light's eerie unwavering radiance, soft laughter that slid between warm and cruel as a callused hand circled the back of her neck, the jagged pain of loss. The icy certainty that if she didn't listen, didn't start walking north to Simjia before the next sunset, she and everyone she loved would die within the month.

Common sense said to leave her children safe at home. Mountain dreams were meant to be followed alone.

Mountain dreams were meant for the young.

The gods had broken one pattern already. Why not break another? And she couldn't escape the nagging sense that leaving half her heart behind was no fit way to start a quest.

"We all go," Navila decided. "But not until the afternoon. We have enough time to do this right."

Aijo reached across the table to lay his hand atop Navila's, his skin warm against her dream-chilled flesh. "We do. And when we reach whatever the gods want you to find, I know you'll make the right choice."

Navila squeezed her brother's hand. "You trust me too much. But I'm sure whatever the choice may be, I'll make it more wisely with my family at my side."