#Mountain Goat — Captain Craghoof, Queen of the Crags

You hike the gravel path toward a bluff on the edge of the city—a place people only come for photos or solitude. At the base of a wind-battered pine, half lodged in stone, you find the medallion. You brush it off and place your fingers to the bronze.

A bleat echoes above.

“About time,” a voice calls down. “I was starting to think humans didn’t believe in elevation anymore.”

You glance up to see her standing perfectly balanced on a boulder the size of a shoebox. White fur fluffed by wind, golden eyes narrowed in smug triumph. She leaps down with impossible grace, landing inches from you, smug and majestic.

“You climb like a falling pinecone,” she says cheerfully. “But points for making it up here at all.”

“I—uh—are you—?”

“Captain Craghoof, obviously. Queen of the Crags. First of the High-Steppers. Knower of Switchbacks. Slayer of Slight Inclines.”

She strikes a pose, one hoof on the medallion like it’s a royal seal.

“You’ve met the squirrel, haven’t you? All twitch and tail. Told you to find the others, yes? Good. Very good. Not everyone’s cut out for this quest.”

You begin to ask: “Do you know where the medallions came—”

“Pfft. Why would I care? Probably rolled downhill from something less impressive. The important thing is: I’m part of it. And now you are too.”

She butts your shoulder affectionately—harder than you expect.

“You lowland creatures always look so lost. Tripping over flat ground. Startled by dew. But maybe, just maybe, you’ve got the grit for this.”

You steady yourself.

“What happens when I find them all?”

Captain Craghoof gives a dramatic snort.

“The mountaintop clears. The air sharpens. The fog burns off, and you finally see what’s been staring at you from above this whole time.”

She pauses, lowers her voice.

“Or maybe a giant door opens in the clouds. Who knows? I’m not in charge of plot twists.”

She hops back onto her pebble-sized perch.

“Oh, and if you see that marmot again—tell him I still have his hat.”

With a final bleat of laughter, she bounds away up the cliff face like it’s a sidewalk.