Mist Monster

High on the mountain - way up where it is cold even on hot days - way, WAY up where it is snowy in the middle of Summer - up, UP where the trees end and the rocks and snow guard the last small bits of ground before it all turns to sky - in the cold and windy edges of the very largest mountain around is born the Mist Monster.

People speak of the sudden dark the Mist Monster can bring. People shudder to recall the damp and chill of such a visit. Looking at a Mist Monster it could seem quite tall - taller than the tallest trees at the edge of your meadow - sometimes even taller than the hill behind your house. But very few people know the heart of the Mist Monster. Almost nobody knows how it moves about.
In the foothills of Tahoma (the name meaning “that really big mountain over there”) there is a little girl living in a small house on the edge of a grove. The grove is home to a large and sprawling willow tree who never stops sipping from the water springs all around his toes (his toes, you may know as roots). Well, Willow and this little girl are friends. On very hot days she sings songs in the expansive shade of the tree’s long and meandering branches. They get along beautifully. She is never too hot from the sun while under the willow. Her singing makes him want to drink more spring water. Nobody knows they are friends with the fabled, the feared, the misunderstood Mist Monster.
Here is the truth of it. Here is their secret. When the storms on the mountain were simply too fierce for the secretly shy Mist Monster it would creep down into the lesser valleys and hills to hide out. This is how he met the girl under the willow tree.
It was very early on an August morning. The elk were perfectly happy tucked into tall grass beds all around the meadow just down the slope from the little girl’s house. The sun had only just sent word it would come over the hill shortly. Only a glow was peaking over the topmost ridge. It would be hours before any color or heat could threaten the dew drops.
The little girl had woken up early when the chattery birds outside her window started in on their morning gossip. As the warm morning promised a hot day she thought is best to pay an early visit to her friend in the grove of spring water. As she sat singing that day she was surprised (and a little thrilled) to see the Mist Monster curling its way behind the big trees. It was crawling up the creekbed in the foot of the valley. It was clearly minding its own business. The sky was blue. The air was warm. Yet, its gigantic soft and white tentacles wavered along to fill in the valley space ( It was usually unnoticed space, so the little girl was enjoying the show).
Well, the silly old Mist Monster was creeping along ever so slowly. It had not noticed the arrival of the sun. If you did not know already, amongst the hard rock faces of high cliff walls, along the roads cut into treacherous glaciers the Mist Monster has no foe. It may gobble you up, or you and your car, or you and your car and the truck in front of you! A Mist Monster may or may not burp you out somewhere around the corner.

But the still and open, shimmering heat of a summer valley meadow is no place to try to be chilly grey and damp for very long. Why? Because over the hill popped the sun! To the cool grove of springs retreated the Mist Monster. There it curled up under the willow tree. It paid no mind at all to the girl sitting there already. Instead, it swished and it swayed. It floated and wisped. Then it slowly dissipated back into the mountain air. Simple as that. Peaceful as sweetpeas. Here and gone.

To this day the willow and the little girl have told no one how the Mist Monster travels magically on air back up to the high mountain. They are not sure they would be believed.