There—the roof of the chamber is open to the surface above us. Shafts of light banish the deeper shadows, the brightness dancing off the cave pools. A larger, rushing waterfall pours in from the surface, filling a massive cave lake. And there, in the middle of the lake on its own tiny island, is no lair or fortress. Just a small cottage. Candles burn in the windows. Smoke kisses the air above a chimney.
Acozycottage.
The entire place is a storybook grotto.
A footbridge springs like a Slinky over the lake to connect thecottage’s island to the nearest grassy platform, not far from where we’re standing. “This is where she lives?”
He nods, solemn. “She transported us here while we were sleeping.”
“Why the hell would she help us find her?”
“Either she’s eager to see if we’ve come to bargain,” he says, “or she likes to play with her food.”
Even though I’m only subsisting on last night’s Spam sandwich, my appetite evaporates.
We don’t get long to contemplate her motivations.
Right as we step toward the footbridge, bone-white hounds emerge from the air, like mist taking shape. They’re twice as large as wolves, practically horses with paws and dagger-sharp canines. And they’re all missing their eyes.
The hounds surround us, going by scent.
“Run for the cottage,” the Warlock whispers.
I watch the beasts creep closer. “Runtowardthe evil Witch’s lair. Got it.”
The hounds snarl collectively, onyx teeth bared.
“Stay close to the waterfalls; the noise will confuse them. These nightmares will have the upper hand everywhere else,” he adds, making me feel a helluva lot worse. I try to suffocate my rising dread before I freeze in place.
That’s when the hounds lunge.
I run.
Mental blinders fly up as I focus on the cottage, running faster than I ever have in my short and looking-shorter life. The footbridge inches closer with every leap over a cave pool. I slip once, twice, three times on grass dewy from the waterfalls’ spray, though the falls are also the only thing keeping the hounds from fully tracking me.
The Warlock’s long legs are on the edge of my vision, barely keeping up. Even after a night’s sleep, his body is just as fatiguedas it was yesterday. The hounds howl and snarl, narrowing the distance. I hear their massive paws striking the earth right behind me.Closer.
But I’m slowing down.
The hounds snap at my ankles, howling for the hunt. The Widow Witch dumped us in her front yard simply because it was time to feed her dogs.
We’re almost to the footbridge, but it’s too late.
The hounds surround us.
A thoroughbred of a dog pounces. I jump out of the way but slide in the wet grass. The Warlock is there in the same instant, as if to throw himself between me and the hound, but we collide and go down together, our limbs tangling. I land hard on my ass.
We scramble backward on our palms, the Warlock in front of me, his feet closest to the jaws of the hounds. Maybe we can jump off the footbridge, if we can reach it. But if these hounds are her defense on land, what’s lurking under the water? My insides quiver, gut tightening with panic. Now is not the time to need a bathroom.
The beasts circle us with oddly human precision. When my arms give out, the Warlock’s back hits my chest. His body nearly covers mine as he stays facing the hounds.
There’s nowhere else for us to go.
I wrap my arms around his heaving chest from behind and haul him closer. These hounds are going to tear us into shredded cheese, but holding him like this calms my pulse for one brief, sweet second. As he leans against me, torso tucked between my legs, his hands grip the backs of my thighs. “If this doesn’t go well—”
“Don’t you dare,” I gasp between lungfuls of air.
The hound closest to us looks ready to pounce. To devour.
