Since a young age she’d loved it. In the early morning, before the sun came, she’d wake up to look out the window and see if it was here, and if it was, she’d quietly slip out of bed, creep across the room where she slept with Blair and Eileen, tiptoed through the open common room, almost tripping on the wood burning stove, but catching herself nearly every time (after the first, when she'd been sent back to bed with an aching foot). She'd get outside and it'd be all around her, enveloping her, damp and cool, and she'd go exploring.
It made everything a little better. The hills out east of the village were prettier, more mysterious, more lovely. The shops along the main road that ran through town all had that look about them that others would call eerie but she thought was nothing short of miraculous. The cliffs, which her parents warned her (since they were intelligent people, and knew they couldn't catch her every time), were dangerous, had such a mystery about them, and if you climbed down Windsor's Stair (which they specifically told her not to do -- it was too dark and too steep and too slick, but she climbed down all the same, being careful and falling backwards onto her bottom, as Papa instructred when they climbed down during the day), if you climbed down Windsor's Stair, the view of the cliffs and the bird nests from the beach was glorious, and the feel of the mists over the ocean was magical.
In fact, it was a little magical. The Mists were known to be at that awkward stage between sentience and animal, between living and simply animate, between natural and...something else. Truth be told The Mists didn't like many people, but they liked Kirstin (punctuation)a major reason she did so well on misty mornings and stayed so safe. The Mists were known to confuse almost everyone, but, if one paid attention, and indeed if one believed in the magical nature at all (for magic in this world was quite subtle, and not neccessarily self-evident), those who fell off cliffs, crashed carts, and ran into those they fled were largely less than (pleasant - three syllables) individuals. Kirstin was much the opposite.
Kirstin was the kind of child who didn't have to be told to help people. In fact, from a young age, Kirstin's parents had to discourage her from sharing, and the biggest lesson about helping others they were able to teach her was that before you can help others you have to help yourself. At eleven, she was almost a woman now, but not quite. Soon she'd be married, likely to Johnny, and sneaking out to be in the mist would likely lose its charm.
Some dark misty morning as she woke up, her siblings were already awake. She was surprised to see that they were getting dressed.
"What are you doing up so early?" Petulance in her voice...
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