his eyes.
Then they emerged into the open high country, and here Leo used his free hand to support himself in the upward climb. Rose Red moved without hesitation, never stumbling on the wet rocks, never turning to check Leo’s progress as he followed.
When they came to the sheer rock face and Rose Red began to climb a path Leo could not see, he felt the change in the air. The smells of the night vanished, replaced with nothing, and the darkness was acute. Leo’s head went fuzzy. He wanted to support himself on the rocks, but when he reached for them, they weren’t there. Instead, he clung to the end of his beanpole with both hands and all but shut his eyes as Rose Red led him up and up.
At night, the cave’s mouth looked so like a wolf that Leo had to bite his own tongue to keep from crying out. His feet stopped moving, and his grip on Bloodbiter’s Wrath tightened so that Rose Red, who kept on walking, dropped her end. Only then did she turn around.
“What?”
Leo shook his head, staring at the cave’s mouth and telling himself not to be a fool. He’d seen it by daylight and knew it was only a cave.
“You want to see the monster, don’t you?” said Rose Red. Her voice was tight and thin as a bowstring.
Leo nodded.
“Then come.” She turned and marched right to the cave’s mouth. Hating every step he made, but hating himself still more for being afraid, Leo followed. He raised his beanpole and muttered, “I am a warrior. I am a hero. I am going to face the monster.”
What a tale this would be at breakfast tomorrow. Foxbrush would drop his teeth! This thought comforted Leo, and he followed Rose Red all the way to the cave’s mouth.
She vanished inside.
He couldn’t say how long he stood there, his courage twisting and writhing in his heart. At length he heard Rose Red calling from the blackness. “Ain’t you comin’?”
“I . . . I can’t see anything.”
“It’s not that dark.”
Leo gulped. “I can’t see anything,” he repeated.
He felt her hand, so tiny in its glove, reach out and take hold of his. Then her veil wafted against his cheek as she spoke softly in his ear: “Come along, Leo. I’ll take you.”
He followed her into the darkness, and it was dank and stale and close. His feet gingerly felt out each step before he trusted his weight to them. Rose Red was kind and waited for him as he made his hesitant way, and she kept a tight grip on his hand. Bloodbiter’s Wrath scraped against the low ceiling, and Leo was obliged to angle it forward as he went.
He heard running water, and the sound brought his heart hammering to his throat. “Is that the stream you mentioned before?” he asked, amazed at how loud his whisper sounded.
“Yup,” she said. “We’re close now.”
“To the monster?”
“Very close.”
“How . . . how will I see it?”
She did not answer. They proceeded several more paces; then she pulled him to a stop. From the sound of it, the water was near. “Kneel here,” she said.
Leo obeyed, keeping hold of his beanpole in his right hand, but Rose Red dropped his left. He put it out, feeling for her in the dark, but found instead the edge of the water. He gasped and pulled back, for it was scalding hot.
“Careful,” Rose Red whispered.
He had to work to find a voice again. “So where is it?” he managed at last, speaking all in a rush.
“Look in the pool.”
“I can’t see in here.”
“Lean forward, then, and keep your eyes open.”
He obeyed. A rustling sound, like fabric moving, startled him, and he wondered for a split second if Rose Red had removed her veil.
“Look in the pool,” the girl repeated. Leo, straining his eyes against blindness, looked.
A light.
At first faint and distant, glowing from deep, deep down, no more than a pinprick but impossible to miss in that darkness. It grew, and now Leo could see ripples moving on the surface of the water. The light continued to grow, and he thought it might be fire, but that was
Then they emerged into the open high country, and here Leo used his free hand to support himself in the upward climb. Rose Red moved without hesitation, never stumbling on the wet rocks, never turning to check Leo’s progress as he followed.
When they came to the sheer rock face and Rose Red began to climb a path Leo could not see, he felt the change in the air. The smells of the night vanished, replaced with nothing, and the darkness was acute. Leo’s head went fuzzy. He wanted to support himself on the rocks, but when he reached for them, they weren’t there. Instead, he clung to the end of his beanpole with both hands and all but shut his eyes as Rose Red led him up and up.
At night, the cave’s mouth looked so like a wolf that Leo had to bite his own tongue to keep from crying out. His feet stopped moving, and his grip on Bloodbiter’s Wrath tightened so that Rose Red, who kept on walking, dropped her end. Only then did she turn around.
“What?”
Leo shook his head, staring at the cave’s mouth and telling himself not to be a fool. He’d seen it by daylight and knew it was only a cave.
“You want to see the monster, don’t you?” said Rose Red. Her voice was tight and thin as a bowstring.
Leo nodded.
“Then come.” She turned and marched right to the cave’s mouth. Hating every step he made, but hating himself still more for being afraid, Leo followed. He raised his beanpole and muttered, “I am a warrior. I am a hero. I am going to face the monster.”
What a tale this would be at breakfast tomorrow. Foxbrush would drop his teeth! This thought comforted Leo, and he followed Rose Red all the way to the cave’s mouth.
She vanished inside.
He couldn’t say how long he stood there, his courage twisting and writhing in his heart. At length he heard Rose Red calling from the blackness. “Ain’t you comin’?”
“I . . . I can’t see anything.”
“It’s not that dark.”
Leo gulped. “I can’t see anything,” he repeated.
He felt her hand, so tiny in its glove, reach out and take hold of his. Then her veil wafted against his cheek as she spoke softly in his ear: “Come along, Leo. I’ll take you.”
He followed her into the darkness, and it was dank and stale and close. His feet gingerly felt out each step before he trusted his weight to them. Rose Red was kind and waited for him as he made his hesitant way, and she kept a tight grip on his hand. Bloodbiter’s Wrath scraped against the low ceiling, and Leo was obliged to angle it forward as he went.
He heard running water, and the sound brought his heart hammering to his throat. “Is that the stream you mentioned before?” he asked, amazed at how loud his whisper sounded.
“Yup,” she said. “We’re close now.”
“To the monster?”
“Very close.”
“How . . . how will I see it?”
She did not answer. They proceeded several more paces; then she pulled him to a stop. From the sound of it, the water was near. “Kneel here,” she said.
Leo obeyed, keeping hold of his beanpole in his right hand, but Rose Red dropped his left. He put it out, feeling for her in the dark, but found instead the edge of the water. He gasped and pulled back, for it was scalding hot.
“Careful,” Rose Red whispered.
He had to work to find a voice again. “So where is it?” he managed at last, speaking all in a rush.
“Look in the pool.”
“I can’t see in here.”
“Lean forward, then, and keep your eyes open.”
He obeyed. A rustling sound, like fabric moving, startled him, and he wondered for a split second if Rose Red had removed her veil.
“Look in the pool,” the girl repeated. Leo, straining his eyes against blindness, looked.
A light.
At first faint and distant, glowing from deep, deep down, no more than a pinprick but impossible to miss in that darkness. It grew, and now Leo could see ripples moving on the surface of the water. The light continued to grow, and he thought it might be fire, but that was
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