“Yes, Maddox.”
I kiss her again. This wonderful day continues to improve. I will kiss Nia all over the Seelie city.
Another thought pops into my mind, and I draw back. “What about in front of your mother?”
“I don’t mind who sees us.”
If she does not mind, then neither do I. Except, I do not want her mother to collapse and strike her head. Perhaps we should not kiss in front of her just yet.
Even so, hearing that she does not seem to have any reservations is a song to my ears.
Reluctantly, I pull away once more. I will never tire of seeing her lips swollen from the press of mine but if I do not find my focus, we will never escape this canyon.
It is difficult to tell how far we have traveled since the day we fell, but I have a feeling we must be getting close to the wolves’ trail. After the rain, they will be on the hunt for food.
I do not wish to be a wolf’s dinner.
Around the next bend, we finally find what we have been searching for.
The trail looks as if it’s been carved into the side of the canyon wall, zigzagging up and up, all the way to where the fog gathers above us.
“Is that the path?” she whispers, her face almost as green as mine.
For good reason. The path appears long and treacherous.
It would be best to spend one more night in the canyon and leave at dawn.
“We are in no rush.” Now that we have reached this goal, we can take some time to breathe and plan. We will need food, fuel for a fire . . .
The thick mud slurps at Nia’s slippers as we make our way toward the start of the path at the base of the cliff. I remain alert, scouring the stones and short bushes for signs of wolves.
Bones. Scat. Tracks.
We are nearly to the cliff when I come across something so unexpected, I freeze mid-step.
“What is it?” she whispers, squinting toward the stretch of ground in front of us. “Did you find more wolf tracks?”
“Not wolves.” My eyes must be deceiving me. “Fae.”
32
“Fear and distrust of the unknown is innate across all species.”
— Flora and Fauna of the Seelie Lands
This cannot be happening. My ears must have water in them or something. “Did you say fae?”
Maddox takes a handful of steps forward and then points toward the mucky ground next to his worn boots.
I might not be an expert tracker, but even I can tell there’s a trail of boot prints in the ground that look as fresh as the ones we left behind. “Someone else is at the bottom of The Divide.”
Maddox crouches next to the closest print, tracing the edges, his frown growing with each passing second. “So it would seem.” Slowly he rises, gaze following the trail of boot prints to where they disappear into the low shrubbery.
Who in the world would be down here? Are they here deliberately, or are they victims of chance like us? “Do you think someone else survived the fall off the bridge?”
“This I do not know.”
Of course he doesn’t. How could he possibly?
