The group of exuberant young people gave Wendel a mock salute and, almost in unison, said, "Yes, sir."

They made quick work of the buckets and feeding. Benjin wished them a safe trip and told the boys to behave themselves or he would hunt them down like rabid dogs. He said it with a smile, but the boys nodded seriously and said again in unison, "Yes, sir." Benjin laughed, shook his head, and walked into a stall with his pitchfork.

The excited campers waved good-bye as they shouldered their packs and started their walk down the river trail. The false dawn had not yet shown on the horizon, but the moon was bright enough to light the way. They had little trouble getting to the river; once there, they turned and climbed past the shoals and falls. They had covered half the length of the lake by the time the sun cleared the mountains.

They laughed and talked while they hiked, having a generally good time of things, and Catrin began to feel the distance between her and her troubles. A small clearing, shaded by tall pines, seemed like a good place to rest, and they flopped onto the bed of needles. Catrin dug in her pack for the dried fruit and cheese, but it was Strom who got a whoop of delight from the others when he produced four of Miss Mariss's sausage breads. Each one was twice the size of his fist and wrapped in waxed paper.

Strom cleared his throat and said, in his best imitation of Miss Mariss's voice, "Miss Mariss sends these with her best wishes to some of her favorite patrons. She looks forward to your next visit. Her words, not mine," he added, just to make sure Catrin understood the message was intended for her. The subtle message surprised Catrin, as did the support from Miss Mariss, who had always been stern with her, but she decided she would process that information later. Today she was on a grand adventure, and she wanted nothing more than to enjoy the sausage bread.

Her bottle of springwine was drained all too quickly, and she realized she should have brought more.

"No fears. I came prepared for just such an occasion," Strom said, seeing the concern flicker across Catrin's face, and he produced a bottle of springwine and a bottle of huckles juice from his pack.

"I knew we brought you along for some reason," Chase said, patting him on the back. Strom elbowed him in the ribs as he shouldered his pack.

"Sorry about that, m'friend. I didn't see you there," he said, laughing and pushing his way past Chase and Osbourne.

Catrin watched as the boys jostled and roughhoused along the trail, meandering in the direction of their intended campsite, but as the valley narrowed, they walked single file. The sound of the rushing falls grew as they approached the end of the lake, and when they reached the clearing, Catrin smiled in recognition. There was the tree she had climbed so long ago in hopes of catching a glimpse of the enchanted grove. She needn't wonder any longer; now the grove was her destination.

In search of the natural stair Catrin's father had mentioned, they approached the base of the falls, the mist rolling over them in clouds. Sunlight danced in the moisture, casting rainbows across the clearing, and they moved quickly, hoping to avoid a thorough soaking.

"There it is," Chase said, and Catrin followed his gaze. Rounded lumps, blanketed with moss and soaked with accumulated moisture, formed the crude base of the stair. The rest of the formation created an illusion, appearing flush with the rock face until the spell broke, and Catrin could see the form plainly. A narrow shelf angled up the rock face, its slope irregular.

Heights had never been a problem for Catrin, but the stair was daunting. There was no room for error; any slip could send her over the sheer drop with nothing to break her fall. As they climbed higher, the stair became dry and, in some places, distinct and well formed. Catrin found them a wonder, as if fate had carved a path for them, and she was thankful for the gift.

The mental image did not last long, though, as they soon came on a crumbled section of stair, which was barely passable. Perhaps fate did not wish to speed her trip after all, Catrin thought, laughing at herself. They managed to negotiate the treacherous section of the stair with a bit of help from each other, but none of them looked forward to climbing back down. The remainder of the climb proved to be fairly easy, and they reached the top of the cliff unscathed.

Moving west, they searched for the trail Catrin's father said they would find. Seeing no obvious breaks in the tree line, they moved along it, peering through the branches. Ahead of them, a buck emerged from the forest, his ears flicking forward and back, as if he sensed them. With a snort, he bounded back into the woods, disappearing from view but aiding them nonetheless. As they neared the spot where he had been, a trail materialized within the outer barrier of leaves.

Catrin led them into the forest, following the narrow trail. The canopy of leaves blocked much of the sunlight, and they moved within a shady world that was filled with life. Deer moved almost silently through the woods, while smaller animals ran through the leaves with wild abandon. Squirrels at play sounded like a herd of beasts crashing through the undergrowth. Colorful birds flitted from branch to branch, their varied warbles filling the air.

Menacing spiders had built elaborate webs that spanned open areas between trees. When Catrin walked into one of the clinging webs, she thought she felt its occupant land in her hair, and she gave the boys a good laugh while she tried to shed the imagined spider. Afterward she armed herself with a long stick, which she waved in front of her like a wand, clearing the webs as she walked.

The sound of the waterfall faded into the distance, and Catrin picked up the hint of a noisy brook. She knew a stream ran near the grove, and she wondered if it was the same one. The incline grew steep, and sweat soaked them as they hiked, their legs aching. Soon, though, they emerged from the forest onto a large plateau, which was carpeted with thick, green grass broken occasionally by weathered outcroppings of obsidian rock. Emerald moss clung to the megaliths, marbling their surface, as the land slowly reclaimed the masses of stone.

Ancient and immense, the greatoaks were unmistakable in the distance, towering above the tallest elm. Unlike any trees they had ever seen, the greatoaks soared into the sky, their tops obscured by low-lying clouds. As the group drew closer, the sheer magnitude of the trees became even more evident. Twenty-four in all, they were evenly spaced and formed a nearly perfect circle, but each one was a force unto itself. The trunks were so massive that twenty people could stand around one, with arms outstretched, and still their hands would not meet. Awed by the magnificence of the place, none of them made a sound, afraid to break the spell.

Magical in its beauty, the grove lured them, but Catrin was drawn by more than just the aesthetics. She could feel the power of the grove, a place in which the very air seemed alive with energy. They walked in slow reverence, as if entering a holy place. Much of the grove was blanketed with lush grasses, but an irregular circle of bare stone dominated the heart of it. There were no writings or symbols, nothing beyond its sheer might to indicate it was sacred, but it felt that way. The black stone was smooth and level with the grass, and Catrin found it strange that no moss or grass had encroached on it. It seemed almost as if the plants kept their distance out of respect for the mighty stone.

"I don't think we should camp in here," Osbourne said into the eerie silence, and yet the spell remained unbroken. "I feel like we're welcome, but I don't want to disturb the beauty of this place."