“When the witch dies, every spell she’s used to form these caves will falter. If we do somehow manage to dodge the falling rocks and rivers of Earthfire all the way to the cave entrance, how do we descend from the tallest mountain in the world without being frozen to death by the wind and snow?”
“When the witch’s spells break, I will have control over my form again,” argued Betwixt. “I can take you both down quickly enough.”
“It might take time before you have control again. It might take energy you won’t have because the witch has siphoned every bit of it away. Do you trust your nature enough to bet our lives on it? And then, after all of that, we’ll be chased by a very angry dragon. You know full well that surviving the dragon is impossible.”
“I’m being optimistic,” said Betwixt.
“I’m being realistic,” said Peregrine.
“Well, don’t let Saturday catch wind of your realism, or she’ll never go through with killing the witch.”
“We forfeit our lives in every scenario.”
“This is no life,” said Betwixt.
“Funny,” said Peregrine. “Then what exactly is it we’ve been doing up to now?”
“We do not live here. We merely exist. And we would have gone on doing so while the dragon slept, but it is not a life. Lives have suns and seasons. Lives have happiness and sadness and birth and death.” He lifted his wings to make great shadows on the walls. “Time rises up here to die. Down there is where it is lived, felt, and remembered.”
“And regretted.” Peregrine could not help but think of Elodie and the sweet dream of a simple life he was never meant to lead. He ran a thumb across the blue scar on his wrist and allowed himself the brief fantasy of a quest-filled future beside the giant, sword-wielding brat who’d stolen his heart the moment he’d met her.
“As you choose. That is freedom: the ability to choose. One day, I will once again be able to choose my own form. That is how I will know I am free.”
“Death is also freedom,” said Peregrine. “It seems to be the only choice left for Saturday. And for us.”
“And here I thought cats were supposed to be the annoyingly wise ones,” said Betwixt. Peregrine ruffled his fur, and Betwixt snapped playfully at his fingers. “I plan to help Saturday kill the witch, but I also plan to help her escape these blasted caves. Are you with me? If we’re going to die here on this mountain, I say we do it in a blaze of glory.”
Peregrine cracked a smile. “From the gullet of a dragon.”
11
A Nonsense Never Hoped For
SATURDAY WOKE up shivering in the darkness. She reached for her blanket, but Trix had stolen it again. Scamp.
As sleep left and reality crept in to set up shop, Saturday remembered where she was and how she’d gotten there. What she’d done to Trix. How she’d abandoned her mother. She sent up a prayer to the gods for her brother’s well-being and Mama’s safekeeping, then turned her face to the icerock floor of the armory and refused to give in to the urge to cry. She needed to get up and start saving the world. It’s what Jack would have done. It’s what Trix would have wanted her to do.
Too bad their last exchange had been a fight. Lately it seemed like most of Saturday’s conversations were arguments.
The moment she raised her head, she wished she’d had that bath. Her dirty skin crawled over her aching muscles and her head itched. It wasn’t a state she was a stranger to, but she never slept this way. Mama always made her, Papa, and Peter wash before dinner. Time-consuming as the custom had been, Saturday had grown to enjoy ending the day clean and fresh. She looked forward to ridding herself of this filth when she was done mucking out the bird’s cave. She tried not to consider the quality, quantity, or temperature of the water to come, or what dubious means Peregrine had of providing it, but he had promised her a bath, and she’d hold him to it.
He had also kissed her.
Saturday pressed her lips together. There was no more sting left from the poison, only the memory of the pressure of Peregrine’s mouth upon hers and the ghost of his warm arms around her. She had dreamt of being kissed, once when she was a little girl and once when she’d been kidnapped from Thursday’s pirate ship. She wondered now if that second time had been a dream at all.
To Saturday, falling in love was a nonsense never hoped for. Love and marriage and family would mean the end of her adventuring. She had only just begun to live her life outside the towerhouse. So far, that life had been full of swords and witches and life-or-death decisions. Kissing had no place there.
And yet, Saturday couldn’t bring to mind a tale about Jack in which he’d banished evil or bested a beast without winning the heart of some girl in the end. Saturday sighed. Did romance have to be part of the adventure? It just seemed so unnecessary and distracting.
Worst of all, she had liked the kiss. She wanted to do it again, and that annoyed the hell out of her.
Fighting with someone was so much easier than caring about him, and caring would make Saturday’s final decision that much harder. It wasn’t just herself she’d be sacrificing by killing the witch and waking the dragon; the deaths of Peregrine and Betwixt would be on her hands as well.
She stood up and collected the rake. If she could not conquer her emotions, she could at least conquer this day. A hard day’s work might not solve everything, but it would help her sort out her thoughts.
Saturday got lost on the way to the privy cave. This mountain was a piskies’ parlor, mazes upon mazes of dark tunnels and chambers in which even a kobold could get lost. She arrived just in time to do her business and avoid being burned by the cleansing fire. Clever, whoever had discovered this particular alcove. Cruel, that Peregrine had not mentioned the marsh-gas odor that heralded the cleansing fire. But then, she hadn’t gone out of her way to be kind, either. She decided to make an effort to be nicer.
And then she wondered why.
Stupid kiss.
Too bad she couldn’t leave her clothes behind to be incinerated as well. The privy cave smelled better than she did. She stayed close to the fire, missing the feel of warm sun on stiff muscles. She found a lantern and used the embers left in the wake of the privy fire to light it, coaxing them to her with the handle of the rake. She tossed the rest of the useless pebbles into Puddle Lake. She’d started keeping a handful of pebbles in her pockets to toss whenever she suspected such a mirage.
Her stomach growled angrily. Dubious of the multicolored mushrooms guarded by the bearlike rock formation, she tried to locate a place in the walls where she could chip away at the icerock. What clear ice she finally did manage to carve out melted disappointingly on her tongue. Her stomach was not fooled and loudly voiced its opinion about her trickery.
The caves wound down and around, up and through, with sometimes sloping, sometimes jagged floors and ceilings low and high. Somewhere in between Saturday realized she was even more lost than when she’d started. Tired of knocking her sore noggin on cleverly concealed protuberances and fingerstones, she sat back against the wall with the rake beside her. Someone would find her eventually. She secretly hoped that someone would be Peregrine, even though she still hadn’t decided what to say to him.
His kindness reminded her a little of Peter, always offering to help, always letting her get under his skin. Peter was compassionate without being soft, so what was it about Peregrine that bothered her so much? She should try harder to consider him as she did her brother.
Except for the kissing part.
There was a shuffling noise in the shadows, the same scurry of little feet she’d heard in the armory the night before. Curious as to the source, Saturday did not move the lantern. She remained very still. Creatures in the Wood were often brave enough to sniff her out so long as she did not pose a threat to them. Not that any creature of the Wood could have stood her current scent, but cave dwellers might be a bit more forgiving.