The trek towards the Harvest Goddess spring was tougher than appearances suggested. Already streams of sweat rolled down Angela's face as they ascended the mountain. "Damn I'm outta shape."

"You truly are," Grendel seemed to be unfazed by the exercise.

"Easy for you to say, you have four legs."

"Don't blame me for your anatomy." At last the waterfall came into view, and Angela gratefully ran to its rocky shores, absorbing the bouncing droplets of water as they beaded her face. She never wanted to leave the water's cooling effects for the rest of her life.

"Come on," Grendel was growing impatient. "The Harvest Goddess spring isn't much further, once we cross that bridge."

Angela hadn't notice that when they approached the falls, and a gasp of horror crept from her gaping mouth. "I can't cross that!" The age of the wooden-planked bridge, suspended only by ropes as it hovered over the gorge of the falls' river, swaying unsteadily in the breeze, frightened Angela something fierce. "I'll be skewered by the rocks as soon at that piece of ancient landscaping collapses under my weight!"

"You're not that pudgy."

Her face reddened. "I'm not fat at all."

"Then come on," Grendel gave her a challenging glance before proceeding to the bridge, tail hung straight in the air. Gracefully, she stepped onto the bridge and began to cross.

"Wait!" Angela called, running over to the bridge's base and stopping in her tracks. She knew you never looked down when in high places, but her eyes felt compelled to trace the jagged surface of the water's shore, the height of the bridge disconcerting. Gulping audibly, she held onto one side of the rope railing, and slowly scooted sideways, as if crossing from one side of a cliff's edge to the other. If she could physically laugh, Grendel would have been rolling on the wooden surface in hysterics.

"What are you doing Angela?"

"Shut up. I'm crossing, aren't I?" Her hands shook, causing the rope to quiver.

"I suppose so. I'll see you on the other side," Grendel turned and picked up pace, running towards the other side.

This has got to be the world's longest bridge, she whined silently to herself. Is this island even worth the effort? She quickly pushed the negative thought away. When she was forced to become a necromancer, a blasphemous and frowned upon occupation, Angela swore to use her powers for good, unlike the necromancers of the past who resurrected the dead for blackmail or gaining unknown intelligence, which was usually used for bad deeds. Sometimes the summoned dead broke free from the necromancer's observation, and abandoning whatever personality or morals they maintained while alive wrecked havoc onto the world, usually seeking vengeance if they were murdered. Necromancers of yesteryear really painted a bad picture for the practice when sometimes good could come from the craft, as Angela believed then and now. While she was lost in her thoughts, her pace picked up and she was nearly halfway across the bridge when Grendel interrupted her reveries.

"Hey, almost there! You're doing great, oh Great Savior of Castanet!"

She stared over the edge, and almost threw up. At this point, the gorge below was at its deepest and most menacing. "Oh..." she felt light headed. I can't faint, I'll fall right off. Fighting her hardest, she squeezed her eyes closed, her brow furrowing, trying to stay conscious. Now Grendel was worried.

"Angela...are you all right?"

Does it matter? It's not like you can walk up to someone and ask for help.

"Hey there."

Angela whipped her head around and looked at where she started this seemingly hopeless endeavor. On the other side stood a man with tan skin and dark blue hair, mostly covered under a fire-printed bandana. Am I seeing things now?

"Take it easy," the stranger smiled reassuringly, slowly making his way to Angela. "I know this bridge is pretty jacked up from a recent typhoon. But for the time being it's sturdy enough to cross."

For the time being? Angela's face grew paler, and this showed in the man's yellow eyes. "Oh jeez, wrong words. I mean, it's totally safe! My pop said so, and he's the head carpenter here." By this time he was standing next to Angela, extending an arm. "Here, let me help you."

She greedily took his arm and let him guide her across, her eyes closed. Despite his rugged appearance he was really a kind and jubilant man, talking to Angela about anything but the bridge to help ease her frayed nerves. Before she knew it, she made it across to Grendel, who purred at their feet.

"Thank you," Angela's voice was raspy.

"No prob, that bridge really needs some repairing."

"So why hasn't anyone fixed it yet? I haven't witnessed any storms since moving here two days ago." Or the remnants of one, for that matter. How could the island's inhabitants be so irresponsible?

His face grew solemn. "Because this place has really gone downhill. The wood from the trees are crumbling as soon as we chop 'em down. And that's not the end of Castanet's issues."

"Really? I had no idea this plague reached the trees' quality of lumbar." She minutely glanced down at Grendel, who returned the look: I heard.

"Yeah," he shook his head. "Anyway, if you just moved here, then you must be the new rancher everyone can't stop talking about!"

"Yeah, I guess I am. I'm Angela," she extended her hand. His own seemed to swallow hers in his grip.

"I'm Luke! I'm an apprentice carpenter, along with Bo, who you'll probably meet soon enough. We work under my dad, Dale. If you ever need your house fixed up-and no offence, but you do-or need an upgrade on your barn or coop, we're the guys you're looking for!" His grin was wide as he fist-pumped the air. Angela couldn't contain a giggle, her previous anxiety forgotten.

"I'll keep that in mind." He walked her and Grendel to his shop's front before bidding them farewell. Angela had no idea that anyone had taken up residence on this mountain, but as she scanned her new surroundings it seemed many people had, and a plethora of different businesses lined the flat peak. A jeweler's, a blacksmith's and a general store, in addition to Luke's place of business and the open access to the Garmon Mines. It was a cozy little community, and she could imagine the peaceful nights away from the majority of Castanet's residents.

"Over here," called Grendel, standing on a nearby path covered in forest. "I feel something strong coming from this direction."

Angela jogged over, and both made their descent down the path until they reached a beautiful pool scattered with the remains of what might have been some sort of temple, probably in honor of the Goddess. On the other side stood a skinny, leafless tree, and beneath it sat the Goddess herself, her weak and frail body almost translucent, her bluish aura growing weak.

This is the Goddess, and that path looked like it was hardly used. Does anyone even know she's back here suffering? She swallowed; Angela had never met a deity of any kind, and suddenly she regretted wearing her beat up clothes and muddy boots to meet this beautiful being.