Go Tell It On The Mountain Book Novels & Stories

CHAPTER 47 POV: Mia The mountain was the first thing. She saw it through the plane window as they descended, massive and flat-topped and entirely itself, sitting above the city with the specific authority of something that had been there long before the city and would be there long after. She put her hand on his arm. He looked at the window. Then at her face. “There it is,” he said quietly. “It’s bigger than I imagined,” she said. “It always is,” he said. “Every time I come back.” He looked at the mountain. “You forget the scale of it between visits. Then you see it and you think right. That’s what I was trying to remember.”

It was difficult to leave her life behind, but Morrigan soon found herself too excited to spend much time thinking about her past. It was a two day journey on foot down the mountain, all the while members of the guard told her stories about their own parts of the world. Through their words, Morrigan found herself visiting deserts and jungles and islands in oceans she’s never seen before. When they camped at night, one Guard member told stories of the stars from their pack. When they reached cell service near the base of the mountain, they spent time teaching her how to use a phone. When they finally reached the base of the mountain, Morrigan saw her first ever car.

The girl who had been told she was nothing had just signed a treaty with the pack that said it. As its equal. As its neighbor. As the Luna of the north. Ethan's hand found mine. I held on. And the mountains, as always, held their silence and their witness, and bore it all without comment. Because they had seen the whole of it. And they already knew how the story ended.

He warned her to keep the feather safe as it was our only means of communication once we got past the mountains. At dinner, Donatello also told us the base of the mountain was a half-a-day walk and that we’d be there a little while before dusk if we left in the morning. After all we had been through, we were so close to home. We all went to bed excited since we would soon witness the most powerful warlock in the world blow a hole through a mountain. However, my excitement turned to curiosity as I was talking to Kevin in the flower field. I decided to ask him about Merlin’s past.

Chapter 13 Into the Mountains POV: Adelina McKenna The mountains don’t care who you are. Not your name. Not your title. Not even the blood in your veins. They’ll either break you. Or build you. And sometimes, they do both. Mama Oya woke me before sunrise the next morning, pulling aside the heavy curtain in the den with a sharp snap that made my entire body flinch. “No more sleep,” she said. “You’ve been sleeping your whole life.”

The wind whispered around the eaves, but inside, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire, the scrape of the knife against potato skins, and the quiet rhythm of two people learning how to be ordinary together. For the first time since this whole impossible journey began, the weight of everything felt a little lighter. The mountain had taken away the path, the signal, the noise. In its place, it had given us this one slow afternoon where hands could mend fabric and peel potatoes, where stories could be told without judgment, and where a man who once belonged to the spotlight could laugh out loud simply because he had fallen into the snow and gotten back up again.

I feel something strong bite into my skin. My heavy eyes prop open slowly just so I'll find out where I am. "What? Shit!" I bark, jerking up from where I am lying. Snow. I spring to my feet, turning my eyes around for confirmation, and yeah, I am really here. The Cold Mountains. The towering peaks and endless snow have my head reeling. The fog and the whistle in the wind are a reminder that the elders really did well on their promise. A mountain of chill courses down my spine, and I'm left shivering in the cold, my breath fogging.

The world as it once was and the world as it could become was the way she saw the world. Gasping she pulled her hand back. “It holds everything. Above all else, the mountain is alive and it remembers everything.” Arden knelt near the platform. “Did this is what the Root wanted us to find?” Serakha, however, said that it’s part of it. “But the mountain is in pain. It’s never healed 'it has been something wounded it a long ago.’” The rumble grew, and from the tunnels far beneath the ground, a ground trembled slightly as the earth shuddered. The Onyx Wolf growled low.

She thought: there is more to come. She closed her eyes. Outside, the mountain was dark and quiet and patient, the way mountains are, waiting for morning the way it always waited — certain, unhurried, completely sure of itself. Morning would come. It always did. The story kept going...