Chapter 9
The sound increased in volume and seemed to surround her. What was happening? The entire ground rolled, and she dropped to her knees.
A loud series of sharp pops and grinding rumbles blew through the space with enough force to hurt her eardrums.
Run. She had to run. So she jumped up and forced her legs to move. Now.
She didn’t think about how she ran or where. She just moved. Her boots slipped on the wet stones, and her balance deserted her. Dust sucked into her lungs, and she coughed out as many particles as she could. She gagged and kept going.
Her light bounced everywhere. Walls. Floor. Ceiling. Nothing steady. Nothing helpful.
Another crack erupted overhead.
She slipped, her arms windmilling, and a shard of slate slammed down where her head had been. The material shattered and exploded outward. Shards sliced across her sleeves, shredding the material. Pain blazed through her arms and vanished under the rush of adrenaline.
“Go, go, go,” she muttered, trying to get her legs to move faster. She could hear Bulwark ahead of her, barreling through rocks with the power of a machine. “Bulwark!” she yelled. Her voice sounded small in the tunnel. “Slow down.”
He didn’t.
The ground dipped and she nearly went down. Her knee slammed into rock and white-hot pain shot up her leg. She screamed and pushed herself back up, limping now. Where was that staging area? She needed more space than this to shift into a wolf.
The mine shuddered harder.
The supports gave way behind her with a roar so loud it punched the air out of her lungs. She stumbled forward, gasping, her hands flailing until she hit the wall. The skin burned on her palms, and she let the pain ground her. Focus her. She had to survive this.
Her breath wouldn’t come right.
Too fast. Too shallow.
She forced it. In. Out. In?—
The entire world tilted around her.
“Oh no.”
The tunnel narrowed and real panic roared through her. She had to get out of there but could barely see Bulwark ahead. Her foot slipped in water. Her arms windmilled, and she barely caught herself. Panic roared through her, and her heart hammered so hard she thought it might actually break her ribs.
She heard water running now. Somewhere close. Was that bad? She couldn’t remember. “Where are we going?” she shouted.
“Left,” Bulwark said, not even turning.
Of course.
She followed because stopping meant dying.
The left tunnel felt worse immediately, like the walls were closer and the ceiling lower. She tripped again and this time went down hard, trying to catch herself with both hands. Pain ripped through her palms, and she sobbed once before shoving herself back up.
She didn’t want to look at her hands but could feel the dirt mixing with her blood on her palms.
The sound changed with less cracking and more groaning. Long, drawn-out stress noises that made her stomach churn.
They burst into a chamber, and the ceiling sagged.
Bulwark slowed.
She nearly collided with him. Then she saw a real light. Natural. There was a thin break in the wall where daylight pushed through and showed snow clinging to the edges. Cold air spilled in to wash over her, sharp and clean. Her chest hitched painfully. “There,” she said. “That’s?—”
Bulwark instantly ran in that direction. She turned to follow, and her foot caught on something, twisting painfully. An edge in the rock? She cried out, but he didn’t stop.
