And it is… tainted.
I surge to my feet before I have fully formed the thought.
“Sarven?” Jus-teen’s mind brushes mine. Her physical voice follows a breath later from where she kneels by Pah-m. “What’s wrong?”
I do not answer.
Horror settles in my gut like a lump of cold stone. The spring that feeds the clan. The source for every waterskin. Something has corrupted it.
All of them are drinking from it.
Without explanation, I turn and stride out of the main chamber, the confused ripple in the mindspace scratching at the edges of my thoughts. I ignore it. I need to be certain.
The passage to the spring chamber is short. I take it at a near-run.
The room is cool, carved by time and patient water. The cistern glimmers faintly in the low light, a dark mirror in the hollowed stone. A simple scoop rests at the edge.
I take it and dip.
Water laps against the sides of the scoop as I lift it to my nose.
The smell is stronger here. Concentrated. The clean mineral scent of the spring is twisted, threaded through with that same sour rot.
Our enemy is not a beast. Not a claw or fang.
Our enemy isthis.
And every human female in the cave holds a skin full of it close to her body.
My chest tightens, then explodes into movement.
Mih-kay-lah.
She will be tired. She will be hot. She will be thirsty.
She will drink.
The scoop hits the stone with a hollow clatter behind me as I run.
The main cavern opens up around me in a rush of light and sound as I skid into the open space.
For an instant, everything is too bright.
Then the details lock into place.
Mih-kay-lah stands near the central fire now, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, lips parted as if her next breath might be a sigh. In her hand, she holds a waterskin. The stopper is already out. She tips it toward her mouth.
There is no time for words.
My body moves before my mind can shape them.
I launch myself forward, claws digging into the floor as I drive off. The fire pit looms ahead; I push harder, muscles bunching. I leap, clearing the stone lip in a burst of heat and sparks, embers flaring as my momentum sends firestones spinning.
She turns toward me at the last instant, eyes widening. The mouth of the waterskin brushes her lower lip.
Too close.
I have to strike.
