And then, just as I am wondering whether I could throw myself free—whether that truly does risk death—Doscach veers…and leaps from a rock. I scream, one arm holding tight around Jacko, the other grabbing as much of Doscach’s sticky mane as I can hold.
We drop through air for what feels like forever. Then we hit water, and I scream again, my mouth filling as I clutch Jacko with all my might, his little heart beating like it’s about to burst from fear.
We are underwater. Doscach has plunged into…I don’t even know what he plunged into—the river wasn’t even deep enough to submerge him, yet he’s all the way under the water and swimming, and we are trapped on his back.
Trapped and being taken into the darkest depths of this pool, where we will drown, just like in the stories.
Except I’m not trapped, I realize. I’m voluntarily on his back now. I push to free myself, but my hand stays tangled in that sticky mane. I can’t use my other hand—it’s holding Jacko.
One arm holding my jackalope. The other caught in Doscach’s mane. I cannot swim to the surface. I am going to drown. We are going to drown. Jacko and I—
Our heads burst from the water. It’s another heartbeat before I dare open my mouth and gulp air. I’m still gulping it when the young stallion leaps onto land, hooves clacking on rock, the sound echoing all around us.
I scramble off him, one arm still tightly wrapped around Jacko. I don’t care if I can’t see anything except black. I stagger away from Doscach, feeling my way around until I can sit on what feels like rock. Then I blindly examine Jacko. As my fingers find his chest and feel it rising and falling with quick breaths, my eyes adjust enough to make out his form on my lap. He’s shivering so hard his whole body seems to convulse, and I hug him against me, both for warmth and comfort. He snuggles in, his purr still ragged with fear.
Hooves clop, and the dark form of Doscach moves toward me. I clutch Jacko and snap, “No!”
Doscach stops. I can make out enough now to see his head lowered, emerald-green eyes glowing. He makes a noise deep in his throat.
“I understand that you wanted to show me something,” I say. “I understand that I wasn’t listening to you. I understand that you brought me here for something you think is important. But the way you did it was wrong. Wrong. You frightened us. You could have drowned us.”
He inches closer, head lowered, looking up at me through inky lashes.
He didn’t mean to scare us—for him, water isn’t frightening. He wouldn’t have let us drown—he saved me from that once before. He’s young and, in his frustration, he made a mistake, which I’ve done myself. Yet whatever his intentions, we were frightened, and he needs to know that.
Wilmot has told me many times to remember that Sunniva and Jacko are not grown monsters. Neither is Doscach. I’m still a child myself, even if I rarely feel like one, but to them, I’m an adult. Their guardian. It’s my job to teach them, as Wilmot teaches me.
“It was wrong,” I say. “Wrong.”
I hold out Jacko, still shaking and chattering. When Doscach nudges him, the jackalope hisses, and Doscach pulls back. He whinnies softly and paws at the rock.
“I should go back,” I say.
My voice doesn’t echo now. It isn’t loud enough, lacks the conviction I ought to feel.
I should go back.
But how? Lifting Jacko, I pick my way over the rocky ground until a shimmer in the darkness tells me I’ve reached the pool.
I squint around. I can’t make out any light, though there must be a little somewhere for me to see anything. Then I look up and spot a hole in a ceiling above me with moonlight seeping through.
I realize I’m in a cavern, and the only obvious exit is through a pool of deep, ink-black water. If I could dive and swim, I might head the wrong way and drown. And what about Jacko? Even if we survive, another scare like that could stop his heart.
I should leave, but I see no way to do that.
Once daylight comes, light will shine through that hole and help me figure this out.
But even then, I’ll be at the foot of Mount Gaetal, dressed in a wet shift, armed only with my dagger, needing to walk a mile to my companions, who may have already left the camp as they search for me. If I’m not killed by a monster, I’ll die of hypothermia or exposure.
I sink back onto a rock and rub my eyes. When Doscach’s wet nose nudges me, I start to snap at him. Then I stop.
Doscach knew the way in. That means he can get us out. I’ll be safer out there with him. He is both a mount and a predator, able to help protect me. Jacko will be frightened, but he’ll realize Doscach is getting us to land.
How do I get Doscach to help me? Let him show me whatever he brought me here to show me.
That feels like rewarding bad behavior, but I don’t see a choice.
I hug Jacko and set him on my shoulders. Then I rise.
“All right, Doscach. What do you need me to see?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It should be easy, right? The ceffyl-dwr brought me to this cave to show me something. Instead, he trots about as if the answer is obvious.
I start to explore as best I can. We’re walking on slick stone. There’s stuff growing on it. As a scientist I should be more specific, but I can barely see my hand in
