“Good idea.”
Exploring an uncharted cave takes time. Anders wiggles through one tight passage, only to have to back up when it narrows. After maybe half an hour, we find a decent cavern, tall enough to kneel in, long and wide enough to sleep in.
We kill time by talking. Anders is the chatty one, but with a friend, I can give as good as I get. When we’re tired enough to sleep, I set my watch alarm for first light and stretch out on the blanket.
The moment quiet falls, I hear something deep in the cave.
It sounds like scraping. I picture a grizzly sharpening its claws on the wall, and I have no idea if they do that, but that’s exactly what it sounds like. A rhythmic, long, and slow scratching.
Anders whispers, “You hear that?”
I nod and then realize that’s pointless. Another thing about caves? Unless there are direct vents to the outside world, there’s no light. Absolute darkness. I remember the first time Anders showed me that, admitting he snuck out sometimes to sit in the complete dark and complete silence. Alone with his thoughts. Alone with his darkness.
At the time, I hadn’t understood. Oh, I understood the appeal—I felt it, that mix of incredible discomfort and incredible peace. Absolute dark and absolute clarity, reaching into the darkness inside me. But there seemed to be nothing dark in Anders. I know better now. It took some time for me to come to terms with his past. And then more time to realize that the person I’d befriended wasn’t a mask he wore in Rockton. It’s all him, the dark and the light.
I turn on my flashlight and tell him I do hear something, and he says, “Scratching?”
“Um-hmm.”
“Bear?”
I mentally flick through my local critter list, courtesy of the naturalist who shares my bed. Around here, most predators will take shelter in a cave if that’s what presents itself, especially in bad weather.
“Probably bear,” I say.
“Black, right?”
“The blacks stay in the forest.”
“Of course they do. Grizzlies. It’s always grizzlies.”
“Could be a mountain lion.”
“I’ll stick with grizzlies.”
As for how a bear or mountain lion would get in—it’s a cave system, which means there are bound to be bigger entrances. We’re safe in here, though. This cavern only has two openings, and both were barely big enough for Anders.
“So we stay?” I ask, when he says we’ll be safe.
“You okay with that?”
“I will be after I double-check the perimeter.”
He chuckles. “Good idea.”
He makes his way along the walls, ensuring we didn’t miss an opening. I crawl to the back passage and push my head and shoulders through.
I call, “It’s not big enough for a bear or cat. We’re—”
A voice echoes through the passage. I hesitate, thinking it’s my own. But the voice comes again, and it’s definitely not mine.
I withdraw quickly and whisper, “Listen.”
He pokes his head in. After a moment, he pulls back, swearing under his breath.
“I’m not imagining it, then,” I say.
“No. Guess we’re making a moonlight trek to Rockton after all.”
He’s right. Even if it’s only settlers, we can’t take a chance. Time to pack and go.
As I roll up my blankets, the voice comes again, and this time I catch “Hello?” It sounds like a woman.
I motion to Anders that I’m going to crawl farther along that passage. He nods. The voice is too far away to be an immediate danger.
I reach a turn and shimmy around it, which requires a move Petra calls “humping the wall.” In other words, rolling onto my side and, well, making that particular motion to wriggle around a ninety-degree angle. The moment I turn the corner, I can distinguish words.
“Hello?” she calls. “I heard voices. Please, if you can hear me, please, I need…”
The rest trails off. I lie on the floor, listening and considering. Then I shimmy past that corner again and back all the way out.
“It’s a woman,” I say. “She heard us talking, and I think she’s calling for help.”
“Shit.” Anders rubs a hand over his face.
“Have the hostiles ever lured people in like that? As a trap?”
“Not since I’ve been here. But there’s always a first time.”
I echo his curses.
“Either way,” he says, “we might not even be able to get to her. I say we see how close we can get and assess the situation.”
FOUR
First, Anders struggles to hump the curve. Then we hit a squeeze even I don’t dare try. We back up and resume packing to leave, but I still hear that voice, and even if I can’t make out the words, my imagination fills them in.
“There was a passage off the one we came in through,” I say.
“You want to give it a try?”
“I’m a chump, right?”
He smiles. “Then we both are, ’cause I was just going to suggest we try to find another way before we give up.”
“It’s probably a trap.”
“Yep.”
“That path up the hillside…” I say. “At the time, I was crowing about our good luck, finding a natural path straight to the cave entrance. Now I’m thinking it was a little too lucky.”
“Yep.”