The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea by Axie Oh Page B

fine,” I say, perhaps too quickly.
    He shrugs and moves on, walking at an even faster pace than before.
    â€œWait, slow down.” I trip over a root, catching myself on a tree branch.
    I watch the light of Namgi’s torch move farther and farther away.
    I try to make a run toward the light but instead end up sprawled on the ground.
    Namgi returns to investigate. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks again.
    â€œI can’t see. I need more light. Better yet, give me the torch.”
    â€œI don’t know.” Namgi scratches his cheek. “It seems unwise to give fire to a clumsy person in a forest.”
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œIt’s a straight path.”
    â€œI’m afraid of forests,” I blurt out, shame washing over me. How weak and human I must appear to him. When Namgi doesn’t respond, I brush by him, trudging forward.
    I’ve only walked a few paces when he slips his arm into mine.“I’m afraid of a lot of things,” he says, “but not the darkness. I can see in the dark, you know. Th at must be why. Really, I don’t need this torch, but you do, so I’ll hold it for you. Sometimes I can be thoughtless. And I like to tease. But you can depend upon me.”
    He prattles on, and I concentrate on the sound of his voice. Th e path ends in a small clearing where Shin, Kirin, and the priestesses wait for us.
    â€œWe don’t have time to waste,” Kirin says.
    Shin’s eyes glide from Namgi to me, then he hands Kirin his torch. “Go on ahead and light the path.”
    Kirin immediately obeys, accompanied by the Fox House priestesses. We leave the clearing, advancing even deeper into the forest. With Kirin in front and Namgi bringing up the rear, I now notice details I hadn’t before—there are scuffs in the dirt, the path worn from use.
    After a few minutes, Shin breaks the silence. “I thought you were fearless.” He holds back a stray branch for me to duck under, the leaves brushing over my hair.
    I glance at him to see if he’s mocking me, but his gaze is questioning.
    â€œHave you no fears, then?” I ask.
    â€œIf I did,” he says, letting the branch fall behind me, “I would not share them with you.”
    I scoff. “Because fears are weaknesses?”
    â€œI have no weaknesses.”
    â€œJust the Sea God.” I watch him carefully for a reaction, but he gives nothing away. “Is he your only fear, too?”
    Shin’s eyes meet mine, a crease forming between his brows. Yet I don’t sense any anger from him. He’s trying to determine something about me, as I am about him.
    â€œWe’re almost there,” he says.
    A light gleams at the end of the path. We must have walked a fair distance, yet I hadn’t noticed. As with Namgi, our conversation distracted me from my fear of the forest. He turns from me, stepping ahead on the path.
    â€œWas I right to believe what you said earlier,” I ask, “that you were promising me the month?” He looks back. I lift up my arm, the Red String of Fate glistening brightly between us. “Even should our tie be broken, you won’t stop me from completing my task?”
    â€œI can give you that, at least.”
    â€œEven though I’m one of the humans you so despise.”
    For a moment, he says nothing, then hesitantly, “I don’t … despise humans. All spirits were once humans, after all, and they comprise most of the realm…”
    â€œ Th en why—”
    He shakes his head. “You claim the gods should love and care for humans. I disagree. I don’t think love can be bought or earned or even prayed for. It must be freely given.”
    For once, I don’t jump to argue with him, mulling over his words. “I can respect a belief such as that,” I say finally.
    â€œAnd I can respect your determination to save your people,” he says. “You