“I know.” Her voice was fierce. “You have to.”
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. I didn’t want to let Charley go, but we had around four hours until today’s noon and a two-hour hike, give or take, to get to the meadow. Past the lava fields, past Bull’s-eye, it was the same meadow that I’d woken up in exactly 351 days ago. According to Charley’s charts, this latitude was due a gate, and the meadow was wide open, another hot spot ready to pop in the opening quadrant on the storm track. The only downside was that since the grasses were tall, you couldn’t see the gate rising until it broke above the grass line. But, once it did, the meadow offered room to run. And although I didn’t share the feeling with Charley, this spot felt tailor-made for me. I’d been snatched off one mountain, then landed at the base of another, and to me, it seemed fitting that if Nil wanted to let me go, she’d send a gate there. In the shadow of a snow-capped mountain that I’d never be allowed to climb.
“C’mon.” I kissed her forehead, gently, because I still could. “Let’s hike.”
As we trekked, dainty Miya was as quiet as Nil. She glided over the ground, walking without a sound, and she rarely spoke, except to Jason. But judging by the way he smiled at her, Jason didn’t mind.
I’d only been back to the meadow twice since I’d landed, including the sleepless night preceding Bull’s-eye’s discovery. I’d spent my time in the City, or in the arc Charley had identified as holding thebest odds. But outside that arc, the meadow sat ready. Today we’d see how Nil wanted to play.
The hike took longer than expected. As we neared the meadow, I felt edgy and Jason looked worried. Gauging by the sun, noon was close. For her part, Charley looked determined.
The meadow sprawled like an open target. Tall grasses waved in the wind; trees were scattered to the left, Mount Nil rose to the right. But the rest was wide open.
“Watch the grass line,” Jason said. His eyes were busy.
“Look!” Charley cried, pointing.
For one surprised second, I thought she’d beaten Jason to the punch, then I realized she was pointing to a pair of horses. Running in sync, their brown coats glistened as their hooves trampled the grass. The sound was a dull echo; we were too far away. Oddly ordinary, the sight was peaceful.
Miya spoke sharply. “Something moving in grass. There.”
Following her finger, thirty meters out, the grass shifted in waves toward the horses, like ripples in the sea as a shark moves beneath the surface.
“We need to get over there.” Charley pointed across the meadow. “The far end.”
She took a step and I threw out my hand to stop her. “No. Something’s in the field.”
Charley shrugged. “Probably just the hyena going after the horses. Let’s go. We can stick to the side.”
Charley strode into the thick grass. I lunged forward and grabbed her elbow; at the same time, a massive tiger went airborne, skimming the top of the grass. It latched on to one of the horses’ necks, taking it down in a clean kill. The horse’s hooves swept the top of the grass line, then disappeared. Never slowing, the second horse galloped out of sight.
“I guess the tiger’s still here,” Jason said.
“Ya think?” I said. Back in the meadow, the tiger ripped into his lunch with gusto, making his stripes blur.
I turned away. “Okay, Plan B. We are not hiking around a hungry cat who’s busy with lunch. He might think we’re stealing his snack, and we don’t want to be dinner. Let’s go.” As I started to walk, Charley stopped me.
“No,” she said. “We need to bethere.” She pointed toward the far corner. “I know it.” Her voice had that determined I’m-not-backing-down tone.
“Charley, we can’t.” My tone matched hers.
“Yes, we can,” she said, her voice confident. “We can skirt the meadow’s edge. We won’t be close to the tiger. Let’s go. Now!” Her last word was militant.
I stared at her, trying to figure out how to sayDon’t be stupidwithout sounding like a jerk.
“We have to go!” she snapped.
“No we don’t.” Jason’s voice was dull. “Look.”
“What?” Charley asked.
“Far end, rolling north.” Jason pointed. “And it’s a racer. A single for sure.”
I peered across the field, seeing nothing. Then I caught the speeding flash of iridescence, and I knew Jason was right.
“We’re too late.” Charley’s voice was bleak, and when she looked at me, I felt sick. Her face wore the same look I’d seen for the last two weeks when noon passed. Relief, then guilt, mixed with worry and fear—they swirled through her eyes, dimming the gold—and I hated Nil for that, too.
Noon was seriously starting to suck.
