“Kill it. Do your thing. We made a deal.”
She stuffed her feet into her boots, didn’t tie them, and searched for something to ward it off. A strangled laugh burst from her lips as she picked up the pot.
“What are you going to do with that? Boil it?” I tugged on my shirt and reached for my pack, drawing out my climbing gloves.
Marin blinked. Looked at the pot. “No! I’ll smack it. Don’t question my logic. I’m the brains, remember?”
The first weak rays of sunlight speared through the window, enough to confirm we were only dealing with one Serpent of Sabotage.
“Did I ever tell you about my stint as a snake charmer?” I asked, putting on the gloves and making a slow, stealthy approach.
“No. Were you any good at it?”
“The best. The first rule of snake charming: be more charming than the snake. Done and done.”
Marin snorted. “We’re going to die from snake bites.”
“No, we won’t. But here’s the plan. I’m going to grab the snake when you distract it. Just bang the pot.”
“Easy enough.”
“Okay…on the count of—”
Marin banged the pot.
“Geez, Mare. Wait for the count.”
I lunged, grabbing the snake by the back of the head. It writhed, furious, but I kept my grip and strode toward the door, then flung it into the woods. I dusted off my hands and closed the door.
“All right, I guess we’re ready to handle whatever evil creature lurks in the maze now, too.”
The confession would have to wait. There’s no way a snake was stealing my thunder.
My lips curved into a rueful smirk. “Let's head out. And don’t forget your pot.”
***
Two hundred stone steps later, we reached the entrance to the maze. A statue guarded the opening, perched atop a scarred pillar. The weathered creature was covered in moss and vines, its clawed hands gripping the ledge.
The massive labyrinth sprawled before us, swirling with silver mist. A second statue stood farther in, half-hidden by the fog, crouched low on a rocky outcropping, its wings spread as if in mid-flight.
More crumbling ledges jutted between the towering tree branches, creating a broken and uneven floor. Thick, knotted vines littered with needle-like thorns wove through the rocky pillars. The wind whistled through the leaves, making the branches creak and groan. The sound was ghostlike and eerie.
“We’ll need to go slow and watch our footing. This floor doesn’t look solid,” I said, testing a gnarled branch with my weight. It bowed slightly but held.
Marin removed a small jar from her pack and pried the lid open. “We can use the paint to mark our path, so we know if we get turned around. It’s hard to see in this mist.” She peered upward into the tangled trees that blocked most of the sunlight.
“All right. Step where I step, and stay close.”
Stones crumbled from the ledge as I moved forward. We navigated the first few turns carefully, the path narrow and unstable. Marin mapped our way, swiping paint along the stone in red streaks.
Something rustled overhead.
Marin grabbed my sleeve. “What are those?” She pointed to small, black shapes hanging like fruit from the branches.
“I don’t know. Pods, maybe?”
One of them swayed, then twitched. A moment later, it unfurled a pair of thin, leathery wings.
