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Ali settled herself more fully into the water. Santiago did the same, allowing himself to relax completely. Well, almost completely.

There was definitely a part of him that was more alert than the rest, but he willed himself to ignore it. When Ali’s leg reached out and brushed against his own, Santiago almost jumped out of his skin. His instinct was to yank his back and give her more space. It took effort, but he resisted the urge, and when Ali tilted her head back against the rocks with a soft smile, he was glad. If she was comfortable, then so was he.

They may not have found the next clue yet, but at that moment, Santiago was exactly where he wanted to be.

32

They set up camp in a large clearing—close enough to take advantage of the springs’ residual heat but far enough that the ground wouldn’t be damp or the air stifling—and traded their older hiking clothes for fresh ones in their packs.

They also set themselves far, far away from any mountain ledge. Santiago knew he would have Ali’s fall burned into his memory for the rest of his life.

Clean, well-fed, and comfortable for the first time in days, they sat on the ground, backs against a fallen log, to watch the peach-drenched horizon.

“I can’t believe you tamed a wild dog,” Ali said suddenly. She shook her head, but there was the barest hint of a smile on her full lips. “You could have been ripped to shreds.”

“I didn’t want the poor thing to get hurt,” he defended himself.

“Neither did I!” Ali argued. “I didn’t even want to sacrifice a chicken, remember?”

The sacrificial stone at Cumbemayo. Gods, that seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Anyway, I’m glad you didn’t get your face ripped off,” she added. “It’s not a bad one.”

Santiago felt her words like a shot of pisco, warm and intoxicating.

“Did you know those dogs were sacred to many Indigenous peoples of the Andes?” he asked her, trying to hide his reaction. “They were an important part of the passage of the dead to the underworld.”

Ali tilted her head toward him, eyes focused on his. Santiago took this as encouragement to continue.

“In many cultures, the dead had to cross a river to reach the banks of the next life, where they would continue their existence. Like the one we saw in the Milky Way.” He smiled at the memory. “Black dogs were seen as shepherds of the dead, leading people safely over a narrow bridge to meet their ancestors on the other side.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ali murmured.

“People who were cruel to dogs in this life would never make it across the bridge, without anyone to guide them,” he said.

“Serves them right,” Ali answered. Santiago had to agree.

“We’ve even found mummified dog remains along with human remains in many pre-Columbian burial sites,” he added.

“Peruvian mummy dogs?” Ali smiled. “That sounds like a cartoon for kids.”

Santiago grinned with her.

“You don’t think kids would be scared of mummies?” he asked.

“Have you met kids these days?” She snorted. “Definitely not.”

“Do you want any?” Santiago asked. “Kids, that is.”

Ali looked surprised. He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to ask such a personal thing—he supposed he had just been curious. He was always curious about her.

And he didn’t know how to take it back without making things more awkward. To his surprise, Ali answered anyway.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I get that I’m young, and my feelings might change. That’s what older people tell me, anyway. But…I spent a lot of time taking care of my sister.”

“Naya?” he asked.

Ali nodded. “Nayaraq, Naya for short.”