TiredSoul65's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Rook stood at the mouth of the three tunnels. Each one breathed cold frost. He knew nothing of what lay ahead. The wrong choice could drop him into a pit or wall him in. He crouched and pressed his palm to the mud, hunting for any sign the wolf's nose could name. Gravel slid behind him. He spun, spear up. A broad woman stepped into the mushroom light. A scarred hide coat hung off her shoulders. Claw marks raked her left cheek. A bone whistle swung at her neck. Behind her came two more. A lanky girl in a cracked flight helmet leaned against the split tree as if she had grown there. A barefoot girl in torn red crouched on a boulder, grinning. Last came a small woman clutching a thick brown book to her chest, her fingers black with ink. "Fresh kill," the hide-coated woman said. She nudged the dead bison with her boot. "You did this alone?" "I guard the door," Rook said. "Something ran through it. I lost its trail here." The hunter knelt and sniffed the mud, unbothered by his spear. "I track beasts for a living. I name every one before I kill it." She looked up. "But I don't know these tunnels either. Nobody does." "I might," the woman with the book said. Her voice was soft. She flipped pages fast. "The trading post kept records. Old maps. Debts on this whole rift." She turned the book toward Rook. A rough diagram showed three branching lines. "Two of these paths collapse. One drops into water." "So all three are traps," Rook said. "No." She tapped the middle line. "The left dead-ends. The right floods. The center holds. Someone paid to keep it clear, long ago." The girl in red flipped off her boulder and landed beside the center tunnel. "Then that one. Let's go." She peered in. "I'll take point. I flip over the bad parts." "You'll fall in the dark," the helmet girl said, not moving. Rook stepped to the center mouth and breathed. The frost scent was there, thin but real. The intruder had chosen the only safe path too. His nose was sure now. "This one," he said. "The trail runs here." The hunter rose and clapped his shoulder. "Good. I'm coming. That thing you chase ate crews before. I want its name." Rook did not know these people. But the accountant's book had turned three deadly guesses into one true road. He would not walk it blind. He led them into the center tunnel. The floor sloped down and stayed solid under his feet. Twenty paces in, the mushroom light died behind them. Ahead, faint blue glimmered on the wet stone. The same blue that had crawled under the bison's hide. The intruder was not just fleeing. It was going somewhere. And now Rook knew the way.