They were heading further into the mountains. Mal knew of a safe place to hide, but he dreaded what they had to do to get there. Leaving the forest, they ascended a grey ridge. Their footing became smooth stones. Mal could hear it before he could see it. The sounds of water hurtling over rock. They rounded the corner and there was a thunderous waterfall. Ice-covered the top but the water rushed underneath it down into a basin below, winding out of sight.

Mal unhitched Wart and gave him a pat on the flank. He looked into the beady eyes.

“Thank you, my friend. You’ve served me well, again.”

The boar shook his fur and wandered off, down the ridge, disappearing into the forest.

Mal turned, adjusted Maple’s carrier, then made his way to the side of the basin. There was a pathway leading behind the falling water just wide enough for a man. Inside, the noise echoed off the walls. The cave was gaping dark and Mal shuddered. He gave his staff a shake and the crystal brightened. It shone red light on the dark walls, like a candle in the night. Maple reached for the crystal but Mal grabbed her hand.

“It’s too hot.”

Mal descended into the depths. He could feel Maple hug him tight and rightly so. This place was scary even to Mal, and he had been here before with Bron. He remembered that time. It was in Bron’s nature to do stupid things. That is the person he was. Mal recalled him lumbering up and telling of a cave deep in the mountains. There was a glint in Bron’s eye and his teeth shined through his brown beard. The tendons on his tattooed neck flared. Apparently Bron heard from an unknown source that there was treasure in this cave, treasure past his wildest dream. For Bron that cryptic message obviously meant gold, and gold meant nothing was going to stop him. Mal wished he had his determination.

The red light bounced off shiny stalactites. He could hear water dripping far off into a subterranean pool. The air grew danker, closer, until Mal felt he could barely breathe. He wondered if there was anyone guarding this tunnel anymore. Bron had smashed everyone that came close, and Cythra was not anywhere to be found. Perhaps they had killed her. Mal always had a bad feeling that they hadn’t, that she was still lurking in the deep. Her wounds would be healed by now but not her pride, and that’s what he was afraid of.

Mal reached out and broke off a tiny stalactite like a glazed icycle and held it in front of Maple. She babbled, grabbing it, and turning it over in her small hands. He smiled as she inspected it. Then she lost interest, tossing it. The stalactite shattered on the dark floor, the noise echoing through the cave. Maple giggled at the sound, reaching for another.

“No more of those,” he whispered, “not if you’re going to break them.”

They reached what should have been the lowest point of the cave from what he could remember. A wide expanse with a pool in the center. The water was untouched, not a ripple marred its surface.

Mal struggled holding Maple above the water as he swam. He held her like a delicate artifact not to be broken, and his eyes never left her quaking body until his feet graze the muddy floor on the other side.

He had an eerie feeling, something deep in his core. Perhaps it was the confines of the cave, but he couldn’t breathe. It was like he was being choked from the inside. And then it hit him, a horrid smell. When Mal was a child, he would often roam over the beaches of Fresden. Days he spent out there soaking in warmth. But one day he found the carcass of a large whale washed ashore, rotting and stinking in the sun. Its stomach was like loose cloth and had large chunks taken out of it. He was reminded of this smell in the cave. The stench of the dead. She was still kicking somewhere in these bowels, not that she could kick anymore.

Whispers started behind him. His staff brightened as he shot a firebolt down the tunnel, glowing on the walls. He didn’t spot anything. Mal ran, Maple bobbed up and down on his back. He kept looking behind him.

“Hello Mal,” a voice said.

He turned to find Cythra smiling. Her forked tongue slithered through her teeth tasting the air.

“I knew I heard someone,” she continued, “but I had no idea it’d be my lover. Did you come back for me?”

Mal knew running would be useless, she knew these tunnels better than anyone. Her face was beautiful, with a small nose. The shirt she wore didn’t leave much to be imagined. But the feature that most stood out was her bottom half. Her scaly skin sat coiled beneath her.

“Yes, I couldn’t live on without you, Cythra.” He forced these words out.

Her smile widened showing her pearly-white teeth.

“I knew it. I knew you couldn’t resist this.” She motioned to her snake-like body and moved towards him. Mal raised his staff from instinct, then lowered it.

He felt goosebumps form on his arm as she touched him. She ran her rough hand up his forearm, giving his bicep a squeeze, then rested it on his shoulder. There was a longing-like hunger in her touch.

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“Is this your child?” she asked, running a finger down the girl’s cheek. Maple turned away and started crying. “There, there. You are not as pretty when you cry.”

“She’s not mine,” he said. “I was hoping to drop her off in Arden.”

“Arden huh. I have a better idea.” She moved her mouth close to his ear. So close that he could feel her breath. “I’ve always wanted a daughter. We could raise her together.”

It took all he had not to flinch away from her whispers. But then she flicked her tongue inside his ear. He jerked his head away, rubbing his ear.

“Let me drop her off and I will come back to you.”

“How do I know you will come back?” she hesitated.

“You have to trust me. A relationship is built on trust.”

She grinned at the word relationship. This was the closest she had come. “You can follow me,” she said, starry eyed.

The tunnel didn’t seem to be leading upward; if anything, it only seemed to be leading further down. This made Mal nervous.

“You’re leading us out, right?”

“Oh, don’t you worry.” She looked back at him and Mal had to put on his best smile.

After a while, the distance between them lengthened. She was a few steps ahead. Mal kept telling her to slow down because Maple was growing heavy.

When she had her back turned, Mal plunked her in the head with his staff, her body collapsing on the floor. He ran ahead without her. The tunnel was dark, so dark that without his red crystal, he wouldn’t be able to see his hand waving in front of his face.

He turned another corner and began to panic. This tunnel system must go for miles in every direction, he thought. He started sweating as the thought that he might not get out crossed his mind. Glancing back at Maple’s face, he knew he had to make it out, if only for her sake. She didn’t deserve to live a life in a dungeon with Cythra as a demented mother.

He lost count of how many corners he turned. Mal had been trying to keep track in his head, making a mental map just in case, but that was muddled now, far beyond repair. The hairs on his neck were wet with sweat, but they still prickled. His footfalls echoing off the walls made it sound like there were feet chasing him, shadows following him in the gloom.

If he gave in to the panic, he would be lost forever. That is what he kept telling himself. He paused for a second, catching his breath. Placing his hand on his chest, he could feel his heart pounding.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cythra’s voice asked. Mal could not tell where her voice was coming from. It sounded like it was coming from the walls.

“Oh thank the gods,” he said. “I thought you had left me.”

“You are the one who planned to leave me,” her voice said.

“...What are you talking about?”

“Do you really think I was born yesterday?” she asked. “You knocked me out.”

“That’s not true. A rock hit you. I got scared and ran. I was going to get help. All I want is you, Cythra...you are a light in dark places. You are—”

“Stop with the endearments. I assumed you thought better of me. I thought that maybe for once in my life someone actually wanted me. That sure is a good feeling, being wanted, fleeting but good. I thought we could live together, build a life together, finally be happy. But now I see your real colors. ”

Mal stood, stunned that he had been found out. He had treated Cythra like a tool, something he could use when he needed and then discard when he didn’t, but now he questioned. Perhaps she deserved more. But it was hard to tell when he couldn’t see her face.

She emerged from a hole in the wall. Her yellow eyes reflected his red light.

He sighed. “I have been poor to you, I’m sorry.”

“Save it—Give me the child?”

Mal edged back, hiding Maple. “What do you want with her?”

“If I cannot get people to love me naturally, I will raise her to love me. I will be everything to her and she will be everything to me. We will be happy.”

While she was speaking, Mal edged further back. His crystal burned bright red.

“You don’t want to do anything stupid now,” she stated.

He shot a firebolt at her but she ducked it. By the time she came back up he was sprinting away. She disappeared through a hole in the rock.

Mal didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to run. He wasn’t about to let Cythra take Maple, not after everything they’d already been through. There was no hiding in these tunnels, she knew them too well; but he could keep running. He drained another vial and dropped it clattering on the floor. Heat rose in him. This would keep his energy up for a while. He felt the warmth rush into his spine and up into his brain. Heat behind his eyes brightened the tunnel.

A tunnel led upward, and Mal smelled sweeter air. He took it, praying to Oa that it would lead to freedom. He could see light in the distance, day or night Mal didn’t know. He had lost all sense of time, not to mention sense of direction. What if Wart was waiting outside? What if he had gone through all this just to come out on the same mountain side he had entered? Mal knew he probably deserved that.

Emerging again out of her shortcuts, Cythra stood in front of Mal. Her ropelike hair was backlit by the tunnel exit.

“Is there something about me that cannot be loved?” she asked. “I can’t understand why everyone always leaves.”

“Like everything else in life Cythra, if you focus on it too hard it will not come. You have to let things flow. Do not focus on love and it will show. It will ebb from everything.”

This visibly angered Cythra. She came at Mal with her claws, but he warded her off with his staff.

“Love may be that easy for you, Mal, but it's not for me,” she cried.

A nail caught his face, ripping down, leaving a wound on his right cheek that would form a life-lasting scar. Maple often asked about it when she came of age.

He raised his hand to his face, feeling blood. He only had to make it past her. When she charged at him next, he pushed her down. She fell to the side, and he hightailed it. His legs pumped into the light, and he had to shield his eyes from the day; at least until they were under the trees, where there was enough shade to see. He fell down on his hands and knees and gazed at the forest floor. He had made it. They had made it.

It took him a while to recover.