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The forest saluted her with its vapor ascending in thin and intermittent columns. The smell of humid moss caressed her nostrils. Even though it was scarcely 8 a.m. she felt alive and ready to start the day. “This is what happens when you go camping,” she thought as she climbed the steep path, “your rhythm naturally tunes in to the cycles of nature.” She was panting and sweating on the long stony ascent but she enjoyed the effort. She raised her eyes from the rocky path and contemplated the view that appeared in front of her: a magnificent gorge, mouth wide open, full of shades of pink and ochre cliffs coronated with dark green pines on top. She could also spot some subtle orange patches of oak in the distance. The girl inhaled deeply trying to capture all the smells. It was only her third day hiking in the Spanish Pyrenees but she already felt wilder than when she arrived to that tiny village in the heart of the Aragonese mountains. She walked alone, in silence, trying to spot a deer, a fox, or at least a squirrel. It seemed as though every single creature in the area was hiding yet silently observing her as she hiked up towards the distant peak. She felt watched, yes, but also safe and somehow a part of that raw beauty. The path took her down into a small valley where the scenery became lush. She could hear the dim murmur of a stream nearby where pines and firs flirted a lighter green. The ground felt soft under her boots. The girl noticed a woodpecker in the distance and stopped to enjoy the chirping of other birds she couldn’t distinguish. A sudden current of warm wind came upon her. A vibrant smell caught her attention. Turning her head she followed its direction in perfect stillness, listening, as if waiting for something to happen. She kept looking around, trying to capture any movement within the foliage. At that point she remembered the story she heard in a village two days ago about those “mujeres de agua”, the water women, some kind of nymphs who, according to local legend, appeared near brooks and pools of water. Of course they were just old people’s stories but the atmosphere was indeed enchanting. The sun’s rays filtered through the branches of the trees and created a magical image against a backlight that highlighted the silhouettes of insects. As they flew just a palm above the mossy rocks on the ground, they looked like busy forest fairies. The girl shook her head to get out of that hypnotic vision and slowly continued the walk, refusing to let fear take control. Soon after she found a clearing in the woods and decided to take a rest under the mild autumn sun. Once on the ground with her back against a rock she observed the steep slope in front of her. She was still lost in her own thoughts when she heard a crack behind her. Steps. She turned around with her heart beating fast; her breath stopped for a second. Then she saw a woman coming down from the top of the hill, down the slope and towards her, carrying something on her shoulders. It was difficult to distinguish her properly because she walked nimbly, jumping rocks, moving fast in and out against the light. A black dog followed her like a shadow. The girl stared at the figure wide-eyed and couldn't move even when she discovered the woman was spotted with blood. Then she realized what she was carrying: a blood-stained lamb. The lady stopped in front of her, smiled, and probably to appease the astonishment on the girl’s face, said “Its mum went away from the flock of sheep to give birth and got lost. This morning I found her body, she must have tumbled off a ledge. I managed to save the lamb.” The baby bleated softly and before the girl could say anything, the shepherdess drifted off into the forest as fast as she had appeared.