Page 115 of A Shard of Ice

“We need to get going,” Damon tells me.

I nod. “I’ll be happy to feel the wind on my face again. I don’t like caves.”

“I know what you mean.”

We get to our feet and start walking. The tunnel ahead seems endless, but we know that it’s our only hope for escape, that we must keep moving if we want to survive.

The floor is uneven and covered in loose stones that crunch under our feet. It’s a good sign – it means we are getting closer to the surface. At least, I hope that’s what it means.

The first squeak is innocuous enough.

Damon stops walking. His hand tightens over mine. We both hold our breath.

Then a whole chorus of squeaks sound from within the dark of the tunnel behind us.

“What’s that?” I think I know.

Damon sighs. He looks at me; worry is evident on his face.

“It’s the cave rats, isn’t it?”

He nods. “They’re blind but have an excellent sense of smell and hearing. They hunt in large packs, and they’re bigger than normal rats.”

“Of course they are.”

The squeaks are getting louder.

“Do we run?” I already know the answer.

“No. I will fight them. I will try hard not to use my magic. If I do, Snow will know where we are and send her army to guard all the exits to these mountains. We’ll be caught when we emerge. It’s a given.”

“Better than being eaten alive.”

“If it’s necessary, I’ll save us with my magic.” He cups my cheek.

“Do you have a weapon for me?” I ask.

He nods, handing me a dagger and the lantern. He kisses me softly on the lips. Then he turns, unsheathing both his swords from scabbards on his back.

He steps forward while I move a little back, wanting to block my ears from the sheer volume of the squeaks.

In the next moment, they spill out into the tunnel. There are so many of them that I am momentarily stunned.

They’re huge, coming up to about mid-calf, dragging tails the size of my finger. There must be at least a hundred of them, and they’re coming for us at a pace.

I grip the dagger tightly in my hand, my heart pounding in my chest.

With a battle cry, Damon lunges forward, his swords slicing through the air as he fends off the rats. Their sharp teeth gnash, and their claws swipe at him, but he moves with a fluidity and grace that would be wonderful to behold if not for the circumstances. I hold up the lantern.

A rat lunges toward me, and I stab out with the dagger, catching it in the side.

Yes.

Stabbing works. I hope I get to tell Thesha.

The rat screeches in pain and falls down, its body twitching, but more take its place. Damon fights valiantly.

I stab a few more of the creatures that make it through Damon’s defense. It isn’t enough. Any second now, we’re going to be overrun. Damon’s sword clashes against the rock as he swings wildly. Rats screech and die.

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