The Riddle - Alison Croggon [185]
She could not understand now how they could possibly escape. It sounded as if the forest were being torn to pieces around them; had they not found this gully, they would have been flayed by the wind, crushed by the Winterking’s monsters, blown off the face of the earth. It was only a matter of time before their frail hiding place was exposed and she would be dragged, trembling, before the Winterking’s wrath. Her joy in her wolfishness was utterly extinguished; she stumbled with exhaustion, and her front paw burned as if it were on fire.
Hurry.
Ardina bit her, and Maerad forced herself on, feeling her legs shuddering beneath her. She could not go much farther, even though her life depended on it. She heard a crash close behind them, as a giant tree, violently uprooted, fell across the narrow gully. Somehow she found another reservoir of energy. She limped after Ardina, freezing and shaking, conscious of nothing but the iron will she needed to put one paw in front of the other.
Suddenly Ardina disappeared. Maerad blinked stupidly and looked around, but she could see or smell no sign of her. She sat back on her haunches, too tired to think what to do next, too tired to move, too tired even to feel despair. Ardina had abandoned her. Now she could do nothing except wait.
But then Ardina reappeared, snarling, her eyes blazing. What are you doing? she snapped. Get in here.
Maerad looked up and saw that Ardina had climbed into a hole above them in the side of the gully. Feeling as if it were the last thing she would ever do, Maerad somehow scrambled up into the entrance of the hole and followed Ardina inside. It smelled of earth and rotting leaves, and from it breathed a sharp animal stink. Ardina was already a long way in front of her.
Maerad crawled on and on, deeper and deeper into the earth, her ears flat against her head, thinking the tunnel would never end. It felt like a tomb: cold as death, utterly black. Eventually she would not be able to crawl any farther, and she would just die there, her bones crumbling to dust for eons as the seasons flickered and changed far above in the world of daylight. But, unexpectedly, the walls disappeared and, unable to stop herself, Maerad fell forward into nothingness. Automatically she put her legs out to break her fall, and landed with a heavy bump on stone.
She lay where she fell, her eyes closed, her flanks heaving.
Ardina’s voice came through the darkness as if from a great distance. We outran the storm, she said. The Winterking will not find us now.
Slowly Maerad’s breathing returned to normal, and she opened her eyes. She could see nothing in the absolute darkness, but she didn’t need to. She could hear the sound of beasts all around her; she could smell wolves. She stood up stiffly, sniffing the air. She was in a large space, a cavern she supposed, and wisps of air traveling through it told her it had three exits. She picked out six individual wolf scents besides that of Ardina, and the smell of meat, both fresh and old. There was a carcass nearby; she could smell its bloody hide, the marrow of cracked bones, the urinous odor of the creature’s fear as it had been killed. Her mouth filled with water, and she realized she was starving. But with that realization came a more urgent one: she was thirsty. She lifted her head, swallowing: there was water not far away; she could taste it on the air. An underground river, she thought. She could hear its gentle murmur through the rocks.
Drink if you wish, said Ardina.
Maerad walked jerkily in the direction of the water, aware of the other wolves, whose attention was focused on her. There was a small brook close by, cold as ice; it numbed her mouth to drink, but she lapped thirstily until she had taken her fill. Then she returned to her place and sat by Ardina’s side, wondering what would happen next.
There was a thick silence; it seemed the wolves waited too. Not one moved a whisker, and only the low whisper of their breathing sounded through the cavern.
Very slowly, slowly enough