Stepping out of the tavern for a moments rest Myla saw the skies were clear with a blue that seems almost unreal and otherworldly. The sort of blue that looks like it came from the mind of a painter. 

Birds busy in the forest, their songs ringing out like bells and whistles of some unseen orchestra emanating from the trees. The squirrels were busy collecting nuts bickering, and twitching tails. Myla stood taking it in. Soon it would be the depths of winter only then would she bring them crusts of bread and baking crumbs swept from the ovens.

Looking back through the open door toward the center of the room stood the fireplace made of stone, it was the heart of this home. Used for baking, cooking, heat and mead. When harvest time rolled around the mead making would begin. Last seasons barrels would be tapped and bottled for transport. Some of the mead would be distilled using an ancient family recipe. 

This was a busy time for Myla but fortunately a slow time for guests. People rarely travel into the forest this time of year it was too easy to get caught by winters arrival, so the visitors were few.

The tavern as it was called by some, had been in her family forever it seemed or at least since they arrived on the continent. Myla’s great great great grandmother had built the stone and timber structure originally to be a home. The lower level originally the main cabin became a cellar. The upper level became an occasional tavern and inn by accident.   As weary wanderers would stumble through their doors her family was not one to turn down a guest. They were known for warm welcomes, warm beds, and warm mead always served with a hearty stew.

Turning back to the open door she looked out into the thick ancient forest, the path and the forest were still and quiet.

Amira knew it was risky going into the mountains this time of year. To the uninitiated it seemed like summer would last forever, but the mountains and forests could be hit by winter at any moment. Summer faded to fall. The leaves were hues of reds and yellow, against white barked birch and aspens. The evergreens stood tall rough bark, needles in every green you could imagine. 

Fall was short a few blustery days and nights and then leaves gave way to frosts and snow. Winters arrival was fierce. Blowing wind driving the snow, it would continue for several months. Snow fell not in traces but measured by the leg.

She often had more ambition than foresight, she was determined to try to document this bird. If she proved its existence that would be huge. Her reputation and career would be guaranteed. A bird that was thought to be extinct, it had not been sighted in over 100 years. The last documented sighting was of a dead specimen found in the town near the mountains. It had become a hat. A bird once known only to the tribes that had inhabited the region, a bird that had been revered by the people.

And now suddenly there was a photo circulating of a live one in these forests somewhere to the west. This was big news and she could not wait for spring to go looking. She packed everything she might need, state of the art tent, all weather lightweight sleeping gear, cooking gear and many bags of travel food. She invested in an expensive water filter. She was sure she was well prepared. Besides she had spent a summer with a group of mountaineers trekking. 

She did however forget one thing, mountains and forest really suck for cellular service, her phone had become useless once she reached the trail. Without service she had no link to anyone.