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The dreams faded. Gradually, Orsay steadied her breathing. This had been a mistake, coming down from the forest, a terrible mistake.
She had told herself she was going in search of food. But in her heart she knew there was a deeper reason for leaving the forest. She missed the sound of a human voice.
No, that wasn’t the whole truth, either.
She missed the dreams. The good ones, the bad ones. She found herself longing for them. Needing them. Addicted.
But not this. Not this.
She sat with eyes closed tight, rocking slowly back and forth in the sand, trying to—
The tentacle was around her, squeezing her tight, squeezing the air out of her lungs before she could even scream.
He was behind her. Her movement had awakened him, and he’d found her and now, now…Oh, God…
He lifted her up and turned her around to face him. His face would have been handsome if she had not known what lurked behind those icy eyes.
“You,” he whispered, his breath in her face. “You were in my head.”
Duck had found the cause of the ocean sounds. It was, in fact, the ocean.
At least that’s what it seemed like. He couldn’t see it. It was as black as everything else. But it smelled of salt. And it moved like a heaving body of water should, rolling up to his toes and receding. But he could see nothing.
He told himself it was dark outside, out beyond the mouth of the cave. That’s why he couldn’t see anything. It was obvious now that this had to be a sea cave, a cave cut into the land by the constant motion of water over a long, long period of time. Which meant there had to be a way out.
In his mind he pictured it opening onto the beach below Clifftop. Or somewhere near there. Anyway, the important word was: opening.
Had to be.
“You keep saying ‘had to be’ like that makes it so,” he said.
“No, I don’t,” he argued. “I was thinking it, I didn’t say it out loud.”
“Great. Now I’m arguing with myself.”
“Not really, I’m just thinking out loud.”
“Well, try thinking more and arguing less.”
“Hey, I’ve been down here for, like, a hundred hours! I don’t even know what time it is. It could be three days from now!”
He bent down and touched wet sand. Water surged over his fingers. It was cold. But then, everything was cold. Duck had been cold for a long time now. It was slow work walking when you couldn’t see where you were going.
He raised wet fingers to his tongue. Definitely salt. So yes, it was the ocean. Which meant that yes, this cave opened onto the ocean. Which meant there was a pretty good mystery as to why he couldn’t see any light at all.
He shivered. He was so cold. He was so hungry. He was so thirsty. He was so scared.
And suddenly, he realized, he was not alone.
The rustling sound was different from the water-sloshing sound. Very different. It was a distinctly dry sound. Like someone rubbing crinkly leaves together.
“Hello?” he called.
“No answer,” he whispered.
“I know: I heard. I mean, I didn’t hear,” he said. “Is someone there?”
The rustling sound again. It was coming from overhead. Then a chitter-chitter-chitter noise, soft but definite. He didn’t miss many sounds now, not with his eyes useless. Hearing was all he had. If something made a sound, he heard it. And something had made a sound.
