From her flow of words, I have learned that she prefers cats to dogs, does not like cherries, and once had her blue ribbons stolen by her nemesis, Ivee Lynch. The same female who took her Nolan.
I am not certain if she is distracting me from my humiliation or herself from disgust.
Offering to remove her clothes to make us “even.”
That is an offer I never thought I would receive, let alone have the strength to refuse. I would have liked this very much, more than anything I can think of at present, but not under these pitiful circumstances.
I want Nia disrobed because her desire matches my own, not to make me feel less humiliated.
At this point, I am not even sure that is possible.
We come across more bushes, and her one-sided conversation turns to fruit. While I wait for Nia to fill her skirt pockets with berries, I find the one thing that could make this day worse.
Tracks.
Nia comes up beside me, her fingertips grazing my arm. “What is it?”
“Wolves.” At least two. Larger than the one that nearly got the better of me last week. This night, we will need to find somewhere other than the shore to make camp. I cannot go another full night without sleep, but asking Nia to stand guard with clear signs of wolves near is not a risk I am willing to take.
Nia clings tightly to my arm as I scan the foliage for bloodred eyes. “What should we do?” she whispers.
Ahead, the canyon walls pinch together, squeezing the river and erasing the shore. We will have to press our backs against the cliff to keep from falling into the water. If the space grows any tighter, we will need to swim.
With the current moving so fast, I will need all my strength to keep my head above water. Meaning there is no hope of me keeping our clothes or our kindling dry, even in my rucksack.
There is no way of knowing how far it will be before we reach a proper shoreline.
If there even is another shore.
As I struggle to find a solution to these problems, wetness splatters my shoulder.Rain.
The skies have been threating precipitation since the day we landed here, and it chooses this moment to make good on its promise.
The decision has been made for me. “We must keep going.”
“It’s almost dark. You said it’s dangerous to travel in the dark.”
“Yes, but it is more dangerous to remain in a death bowl.” Seelie fae were taught about pie, while Unseelie fae learned about all the ways we could die.
“What the hell is a death bowl?”
“It is where we are standing.” I tug her forward. “If the rain continues to fall, the river will rise. Do you see how small the gap is up ahead? The rising water will have no choice but to swallow the shore.”
“You think it’s going to flood here?”
“If there is too much rain, yes.” And with no way to escape the canyon, we are sure to be washed away.
We reach where the cliff meets the river, the waves capped in white. I remove my belt and fashion it into a loop. “Put your arm through here,” I tell her. “This will keep us from losing each other.”
Once her arm is hooked through the gap, I put mine in as well.
“Ready?”
Nia nods and then follows me into the river.
The current may be swift, but I am not so easily swept aside. With Nia hooked to me, we keep our backs to the damp cliff walls, wading through the dimness as the rain pelts us from above.
There is one light at the end of this very bleak tunnel.
