road leading to town. When I was far enough away from the main house not to be overheard, I pushed the horse into a canter.
It was much harder to follow the map when on the road than it seemed in my head. At some point, I was supposed to leave the road and head west, towards the territory of the Native Americans. But that point … well, I failed to recall the terrain features, except that it was somewhere around a huge tree, and there weren’t many of them.
I rode over two hills before spotting the tree – and another flag marking the edge of John’s property. Hesitating only a moment, I switched directions and nudged the horse off the road, trying to follow the map in my head.
The hills continued in this direction, though I began to see shallow box canyons, a river in the distance, and wider valleys. The grasslands bowed to the wind, the rustling sound loud, while the horse snorted every once in a while and picked his way through the grasses.
Pulling out the notes I made, I checked our course to see what else I needed to look for.
“ Canyon with a cave in its wall .” I read my notes aloud. “Great work, Josie. This is why you never got more than a B in college. You suck at notes.” I allowed the horse to walk in the direction it chose and closed my eyes, trying to recall the map without luck.
Gotta tell Carter the chips need to be more interactive. When they chose to work, they were fantastic. But I had no control over them, and that was annoying.
From what I remembered, the cave hadn’t been too far. I opened my eyes and stood up in the stirrups to get a better look around. Another canyon was to the east of me. The river disappeared into it, indicating it was larger than I could tell from here.
I guided the horse in that direction. A trail appeared not far from where we were, and I realized the Native Americans had established paths through the grasslands. The horse followed the narrow trail towards the canyon, and we reached the edge before I pulled it to a halt.
The deep canyon seemed to come out of nowhere. Invisible from afar, it resembled something we saw in Northern Arizona in the Grand Canyon National Park, though far more isolated. The river was at the bottom, some two hundred feet below. Between us was a rocky, grassy slope – and a shelf-like trail carved by years of use that ran from the top where I was to the river.
Cave. Unable to understand its importance, I sensed … darkness from the direction of the cave in the wall below me. It had to be the empathic memory chip; there was a faint whisper, and another instinct of knowing that wasn’t inherently mine.
Doubting the path was wide enough for the horse, I left it at the top and went to the narrow path running along the canyon wall. I started down it, startled by the relative stillness and quietness of the air without the heavy wind. With one hand on the wall and another righting my scattered braid, I made my way carefully towards the cave in the side of the canyon wall. If not for the full moon, I wouldn’t be able to see where I went.
The whisper intensified, and half-formed visions bombarded my thoughts. I stopped several steps before the cave.
None of these images were good. Even if I couldn’t quite grasp them and didn’t understand their sources, I could tell something bad happened here. It was like the introduction to a horror movie: slashes of red and black, shadowy movements, the unexplained kaleidoscope of places and inanimate objects, and the general sense of foreboding that made the hair at the back of my neck stand up and my heart race.
A fire flickered to life, casting light and shadows outside the cave, and I sucked in a sharp breath. My intuition was urging me to flee. The map brought me here for a reason, though. I needed to find this cave or maybe, the person inside it.
Be like Amy Pond, I told myself again. She had never backed down from an adventure on Doctor Who. Carter was sort of like the Doctor. At least,
It was much harder to follow the map when on the road than it seemed in my head. At some point, I was supposed to leave the road and head west, towards the territory of the Native Americans. But that point … well, I failed to recall the terrain features, except that it was somewhere around a huge tree, and there weren’t many of them.
I rode over two hills before spotting the tree – and another flag marking the edge of John’s property. Hesitating only a moment, I switched directions and nudged the horse off the road, trying to follow the map in my head.
The hills continued in this direction, though I began to see shallow box canyons, a river in the distance, and wider valleys. The grasslands bowed to the wind, the rustling sound loud, while the horse snorted every once in a while and picked his way through the grasses.
Pulling out the notes I made, I checked our course to see what else I needed to look for.
“ Canyon with a cave in its wall .” I read my notes aloud. “Great work, Josie. This is why you never got more than a B in college. You suck at notes.” I allowed the horse to walk in the direction it chose and closed my eyes, trying to recall the map without luck.
Gotta tell Carter the chips need to be more interactive. When they chose to work, they were fantastic. But I had no control over them, and that was annoying.
From what I remembered, the cave hadn’t been too far. I opened my eyes and stood up in the stirrups to get a better look around. Another canyon was to the east of me. The river disappeared into it, indicating it was larger than I could tell from here.
I guided the horse in that direction. A trail appeared not far from where we were, and I realized the Native Americans had established paths through the grasslands. The horse followed the narrow trail towards the canyon, and we reached the edge before I pulled it to a halt.
The deep canyon seemed to come out of nowhere. Invisible from afar, it resembled something we saw in Northern Arizona in the Grand Canyon National Park, though far more isolated. The river was at the bottom, some two hundred feet below. Between us was a rocky, grassy slope – and a shelf-like trail carved by years of use that ran from the top where I was to the river.
Cave. Unable to understand its importance, I sensed … darkness from the direction of the cave in the wall below me. It had to be the empathic memory chip; there was a faint whisper, and another instinct of knowing that wasn’t inherently mine.
Doubting the path was wide enough for the horse, I left it at the top and went to the narrow path running along the canyon wall. I started down it, startled by the relative stillness and quietness of the air without the heavy wind. With one hand on the wall and another righting my scattered braid, I made my way carefully towards the cave in the side of the canyon wall. If not for the full moon, I wouldn’t be able to see where I went.
The whisper intensified, and half-formed visions bombarded my thoughts. I stopped several steps before the cave.
None of these images were good. Even if I couldn’t quite grasp them and didn’t understand their sources, I could tell something bad happened here. It was like the introduction to a horror movie: slashes of red and black, shadowy movements, the unexplained kaleidoscope of places and inanimate objects, and the general sense of foreboding that made the hair at the back of my neck stand up and my heart race.
A fire flickered to life, casting light and shadows outside the cave, and I sucked in a sharp breath. My intuition was urging me to flee. The map brought me here for a reason, though. I needed to find this cave or maybe, the person inside it.
Be like Amy Pond, I told myself again. She had never backed down from an adventure on Doctor Who. Carter was sort of like the Doctor. At least,
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