Prologue

PROLOGUE

Mountain water runs in my blood .

The song of summer cicadas sings forever in my bones. The last golden rays of the sun, falling into the purple sky behind a ridge, are caught in my hair. Lightning Bugs dance in my soul. The smokey fog that drifts lazily from trees fills my every half-waking thought.

Even after I left Franklin, these things remained with me, buried so deep, engrained so fiercely, that they never truly left me. It’s always made me just a bit odd.

I would rather breathe in sweet humid air, walk barefoot even on gravel, and stick my toes in every single creek, pond, or even fountain I could find. Friends always joked, saying I must be some kind of freshwater mermaid.

Well, they’re not entirely wrong.

I can’t say whether or not these mountains are magic for sure, but if you had to ask me what I believed, I would probably say yes. Ancient, living things. Maybe they aren’t magic, but you might begin to question it yourself if you ever saw me go home. The closer I get the more life flows into me.

My smiles come quicker, my breath easier. Years of pain and grief fall from my shoulders the instant I cross that state line. Stress melts away like the ice in a cup of my Nana’s lemonade, baking in the blazing June sun atop her old picnic table.

If that isn’t magic, I’m not sure what is.

Being born in the smokies makes you a different creature, not entirely of this world—but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I just wish I’d moved back sooner.

But I’m getting ahead of myself aren’t I? Let’s rewind.

The day was June fifth, it was seventy-nine degrees outside (although with the humidity it could have passed for a solid eighty-five), and I was finally moving back to my hometown of Franklin, North Carolina.