The Spell of Rosette - Kim Falconer [123]
Done, and well done. Now, I just have to get past the Lupins and find my way out of this rabbit warren.
She searched the room and found another door, opposite to the one she’d come through. Since she had no idea where she was or which way to go, one direction seemed as good as the next. She walked to the door and tested the latch before pushing it open, imagining in her mind that there was no one on the other side.
It’s an empty hall. I can get away easy. This is a cinch. She stuck her nose out a few inches, repeating her affirmations, looking up and down the hallway.
Empty, and not well lit.
Good. Now for the ‘I get away easy’ part. She stepped through, closing the door behind her. With a deep breath, she took off. At every fork, she chose the archway that led left and up, optimistic that it would bring her to the surface. She had been climbing for at least an hour before the howling began.
She ran and didn’t stop.
The shouts and howls of her pursuers remained faint, far in the distance. That was some comfort. She bolted up a stairway that opened to another landing. Three doorways stood before her, two leading down and the third leading up. The walls here were rougher on the one leading up, more like the insides of a mountain than the smoothly sculpted corridors that led down. She went through the third arch and began to climb. As she trudged, she heard footsteps, many footsteps, and the sound of nails clicking on the rock surface—booted feet amongst them. They became a relentless staccato, descending from the stairs above and heading straight towards her.
Trapped.
Crouching low, she backtracked down the tunnel and felt along its surface for several yards before her hand found what she remembered from minutes before—a large fissure in the wall. She squeezed into the crack, the extruding rocks digging into her shoulderblades and grazing her cheeks. She forced herself deeper and deeper, her body yielding and flattening between the walls. She sucked in her breath and held it. The footfalls were just outside.
She could glimpse the Lupins through the narrow opening—some were in wolf form while others appeared as men, their sword hilts glinting in the torchlight. As they streamed past, one stopped, ears pricked. He sniffed along the ground at the entrance and up the edges of the fissure. Rosette felt the blood drain from her face. She exhaled slowly, silently, and drew in, inch by inch, a new breath.
The Lupin’s dark eyes flashed as his head moved across the ground, disturbing the dust as he sniffed. He scratched at the rock. Another stopped, both growling as they scented. She squeezed further back, her breasts pressed into her ribcage, her face scraping the rock as she turned her head. She was in the belly of the mountain now, pinched tight, dripping sweat and blood from the scratches on her face. The air smelled musty. It made her tongue prickle and she swallowed the bad taste, trying not to cough. It took all her focus to keep from screaming out in terror.
Many Lupins gathered, sniffing and scratching at the crevice. Pain shot through Rosette’s head as a shard of rock cut her temple. The blood stung her eyes, the warm trickle running down her face. She ached to wipe it away. Still she kept pressing further into the rock, unable to take more than thin, shallow breaths.
Her body was in a vice-like grip and she squeezed into the depths of what felt like her tomb. The nausea returned, though she was so wedged by now that she couldn’t have vomited without choking. She pressed on, the fingers of one hand clawing their way ahead of her, pulling her body through the chink.
Almost imperceptibly, she felt a change in the air, a freshness she had forgotten could exist. It evoked the memory of trees and snow, and the pressure around her eased. Her face, previously pinned back to watch the receding gap of light where the Lupins had gathered, finally turned forward. She took a deep breath and a proper