The goat had not moved for hours. He stood right at the edge of the rocky outcrop halfway up the mountain. Wind buffeted him in venturing gusts, but his stocky build hardly wavered under the assault. So near the edge and certain doom, he showed no fear. How he’d managed to hold a frown the entire time was well beyond Cary’s reckoning.
She had spent the morning climbing the mountain. Before that, she’d spent two days getting from the nearest airport to this peak in the middle of nowhere. The year before that she’d been consumed in grueling research, following hikers’ half-formed memories, vague hints from drunk shepherds and poorly translated clues from local folklore. In a few minutes, it will have all proven worth it.
If she could just get past this damn goat.
She had not been sure what she expected when she got up here. Goats were the reason the clinging ivy was a known commodity, albeit hardly known. As she understood it, they were the only animals that ate it. She should have known they would be around when she found a clump of the stuff. But really, she had not thought they would guard it. Did goats even have the cognitive capacity to link their curious climbing ability with eating this type of plant?
“No” was the only logical answer to that question. Except here she was watching a pissed off goat stare her down. It was completely unwilling to leave the wonder plant, and it wouldn’t be so staunch unless it understood the stakes.
Cary rubbed her forearm. She rolled up the sleeves on her jacket and base layer to examine the damage. There were still pretty deep teeth marks, surrounded by a bruised halo. But the goat hadn’t broken the skin, and she thought she’d be alright after a few days.
And she wanted to be well clear of this stupid mountain and this ceaseless wind and this cloven-hoofed devil when the bruise finally faded. She wasn’t leaving without a clump of that clinging ivy.
Somewhere above her, on the north side of the mountain, she heard a distant bleat. Both she and the goat turned their heads. On a neighboring outcrop, a mother had wandered onto the mossy rock. Below her, the mountain dropped off precipitously.
Her kids pranced on that vertical rock face, horizontal to the ground. Three little ones, no more than a few months old, ran up and down, left and right, across a patch of rock that offered no holds for even the most experience climber – human, goat or otherwise. It was unsettling to see, but Cary knew they would not fall. They could not fall, because they had eaten some clinging ivy.
It was a stark reminder of why she’d come up here. She was supposed to be an expert thief, the shadow of a cat on a moonless night. There was no job she could not do, no price too high for someone of her skill. Her deeds were recounted with awe in circles both judicial and criminal. The best security systems in the world failed before her like an overworked valedictorian under the weight of his overbearing parents’ expectations. When she decided to steal something, it got stolen. It was that simple.
But lately, she had been getting offered increasingly absurd jobs. As a thief, there was a certain amount of risk one had to accept as part of the job. But too often her clients wanted her to perform impossible thefts, and then they’d complained when she declined. Her reputation was starting to take a hit, and she would not stand for that.
It came down to tools. All the usual tools were inadequate for the sort of burglary she was being asked to perform. She needed something more, and she’d found it, stuck to the side of a mountain. It was there for the taking but for a possessive, contrarian goat.
“Ok, Billy you selfish prick, I’m not leaving without the good stuff,” she said out loud. She stood up from the boulder she’d been using as a staging area and cracked her knuckles. “I want that ivy, and I’m not afraid to bust you up to get it.”
She moved forward, crouched low with pristine balance, hands out with no real plan of how she was going to get by the hircine sentinel. Maybe a deke, or a spin move? She didn’t want to knock the goat off the cliff, but she wasn’t above some retribution for the bite defense he’d used earlier.
The goat lowered its head and looked at her with brimming malice. It shook its head a little as if to remind her it had horns and wanted a reason to use them.
“You stick me with those things and I’m having goat chops for the next two weeks,” Cary growled at him. She inched closer, heart pumping in her chest, hoping a plan would present itself in the moment.
The goat charged. It was lightning quick, and she only barely dodged to her right. Its shoulder grazed her hip. She spun on her tiptoes and slammed her hands into the goat’s hindquarters. It went careening by her, stumbling from the extra push. To avoid a fall, the goat had to keep going, down the outcrop toward the flat portion of the mountain itself.
And just like that, she was behind it. The tables had turned, and she was between the goat and the patch of clinging ivy. She gave a whoop of triumph.
Without wasting time, she dropped to her knees and dug a hand into the ivy. She searched for a weak connector, somewhere she could easily rip a hunk of greens from the mountainside. Searching quickly, she found a frayed root and tugged a handful free.
At the same time, the goat burst back onto the rocky ledge. Head lowered, the flat of its horns caught Cary directly on her left hip. With a squeal that might have been her and might have been the goat, she went over the side.
She clutched in desperation into the patch of ivy. Luck was on her side, and her fingers wrapped around a dense root. She halted her fall with a thump against ivy and stone. Above her, the goat stomped its fury at her intrusion. It swung its head low, but she was halfway down the dangling plant and out of reach.
For a few moments, she breathed deeply in an attempt to calm herself. In less fraught circumstances, she could easily climb her way back up to the ledge. But the goat had an evil look in its eyes, and she thought it would be all too happy to finish the job if she got too close.
“This is… not ideal,” she muttered. “On the other hand…” she looked down at her free hand. Clutched in her fist was a big hunk of ivy. If she could somehow avoid the murderous goat, she would be on her way with a thief’s greatest asset – the ability to climb any wall, any building, no matter how vertical and smooth.
First, she had to avoid falling to her death. As a master thief, that was a phrase she was used to running through her head. Though she had to admit, even for her, this was a pretty weird predicament.
An odd sound came from above her. She twisted her body a little to get her feet through the ivy and onto the rock. That done, she leaned her head back as much as she dared and looked up. The goat was chomping on the ivy, both eyes locked on her as he ate.
As he ate the clinging ivy.
“See that, Cary?” she said to herself. “The opportunity to escape always presents itself.” Following his lead, she lifted her free hand to her mouth and bit off a mouthful of prickly green plant.
She nearly gagged. “Oh, wow. That is horrendous.” But she managed to keep from vomiting as she chomped down on the ivy and swallowed.
The goat bleated and hopped down the ledge. He went to the edge and then right over onto the cliff face. The ivy’s effect held true, and he turned perpendicular to the ground, sticking out off the side of the outcrop.
It was too late. Cary pushed off the patch of ivy and felt gravity readjust around her. Her feet stayed glued to the rock face. Grinning, she shot an obscene gesture at the goat, turned downhill and ran straight toward the ground.
The goat chased her briefly. As she ran vertically down the side of the mountain, chest unnervingly pointed at the base far below, Cary heard the clop of its hooves grow quieter behind her. She stole a peek over her shoulder just in time to see her pursuer pull itself to a stop and cry out an angry send-off.
Still she ran down, body sticking strangely out from the side of the vertical cliff, clutching in her hand the key to a new era of thiefdom. There was nothing she couldn’t steal now, no more impossible jobs. Though she thought she would certainly decline any jobs that involved goats, just to be safe.
The Tall Tale Year 