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“I’ll take that,” I say, snatching the pouch from his hands, and securing it back around my neck, where it clings to my chest.
His brow slants, his mouth goes grim, hands fumbling helplessly in his lap, as he says, “I’d never look inside, if that’s what you’re worried about. Believe me, I know better.”
I clutch the pouch to my chest, fingers seeking the shape of Raven, the feather, relieved to find all is okay, but even more relieved when it suddenly dawns on me:
This is not how the dream goes.
The realization coming too late, and the next thing I know, Dace is out of the water, reaching for the towel he left folded on a rock. Running it over his hair, his body, before draping it over his shoulders and saying, “Listen, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t going to keep it, and I’d never look inside. I just hope I didn’t scare you from this place. You’re free to visit for as long as you like, whenever you like. If it makes you feel better, I’ll steer clear of it.”
He turns his back, starts to head for Horse. The sight of it prompting me to rush from the water, my breath coming shallow and quick, tank top molding and clinging in the most embarrassing way, as I stop just behind him and say, “So, you’re giving me custody of the Enchanted Spring?”
He turns, his expression shifting from troubled to confused.
“Or are you just granting me visitation rights? You know, like an every other weekend kind of thing?”
I stand before him—a wet, soggy mess with a wide, hopeful grin, which, thankfully, he’s quick to return. His gaze moving over me, so heated and intense, I can’t help but squirm under the weight of it. Then remembering the towel draped over his neck, he flushes in embarrassment, and hands it to me.
We dress quickly, and with my tank top so wet, I decide to abandon it, and just wear the jacket buttoned up the front instead.
“I should go.” I shoot Raven a pointed look, but he just remains rooted in place, refusing to move from Horse, no matter how hard I glare.
“Spirit animals have their own agenda,” Dace says, glancing between Raven and me. Replying to the shock on my face when he adds, “I grew up on the reservation, and, as it happens, I descend from a long line of healers and medicine men. You tend to pick up on these things. Horse has been with me since birth, got me through some rough times.”
I study him carefully, sensing there’s more.
“Other than the occasional trip to this place, my mom did her best to shelter me from the more mystical side of life, despite the long line of Light Workers in our family. But I was always drawn to it. I was never a normal kid. I preferred spending time with the elders to kids my own age, and because of it, the other kids shunned me, made fun of me. My mom’s attempts to get me to fit in made for some rough, awkward times. But the times I spent with the elders, hearing their stories and learning their magick … that’s when I was happiest. They’re the ones who introduced me to Horse. They also convinced me I had a natural gift that shouldn’t be wasted. That it was my legacy, and that there’s no shame in nurturing it. That’s another reason I left the reservation. I wanted a shot at growing my gifts, without my mom’s constant interference. I know it sounds crazy—but this world is full of untapped possibilities—the potential is limitless. You wouldn’t believe some of the magick I’ve seen.” He shakes his head, his focus returning to me. Cheeks heating with embarrassment when he says, “And now you probably think I’m a lunatic.” His body tenses, bracing for the emotional blow I have no intention of giving.
I shake my head and move toward him, cupping his face with my hand, as I whisper, “Not even close.” My lips meeting his—softly, warmly—pulling away only when Raven emits a low croaking sound, telling me it’s time to move on.
“Do you ride?” Dace grabs my hand, leads me toward Horse.
“Chay gave me a horse to look after, but I’m not very good, I’m still learning. Though Kachina, the horse, is really patient.”
“We should ride sometime.” He smiles, then, coaxing Raven onto his finger, he says, “In fact, why don’t you hop on now—there’s something I think you should see.”
I glance at Raven, noting how quickly he hops from Dace’s finger to a space high on Horse’s neck, his glimmering eyes urging me to take Dace’s hand and get settled behind him, as we head back through the forest, back through the clearing, and into a heavily wooded area, where Horse stops beside a thick clump of shrubs and Dace says, “This is it.”
He eases me to my feet, entwines my fingers with his, and leads me to an area sheltered by trees and low-growing bushes. Pushing the brush aside, he stands behind me as I stoop down to see better. My eyes growing wide, throat closing tight—dropping Dace’s hand as quickly as I took it, when I gaze upon a dying white wolf with blue eyes.
forty-four
I drop to my knees, place my hands on the wolf’s head with no hesitation, no fear of any kind. From what I’ve seen, the animals of the Lowerworld have no need to fear us, which means they’re not at all vicious. Besides, this is Paloma’s Wolf—her spirit animal—I know it in my heart—and he’s far too ill to pose any threat.
“What happened?” I glance over my shoulder, Dace’s expression transforming from confusion to hurt when he misreads the whole thing and assumes that I blame him.
“I found him this way,” he says, quick to explain. “I’ve tried everything to nurse him back to health, but it’s no use. He’s dying—which means his human attachment is dying as well.”
“You don’t know that!” I scowl, my voice snappy, edgy, though he barely reacts.
He moves closer, places a tentative hand on my shoulder. His gaze as sad as his voice when he says, “I agree that it’s strange—spirit animals aren’t supposed to die. From everything I’ve learned, this shouldn’t be happening. And yet there’s no doubt he’s fading. If he does die, I’m pretty sure his human attachment will die too—and if that happens, I fear for what will become of that human’s soul.”
I swallow hard, rising to my feet as I gaze all around, saying, “We can’t leave him here. If you’ll help me lift him, then we can…”
I bend forward, inch my fingers under the poor dying wolf that’s too weak to move, ignoring Dace’s warning when he says, “Daire, you can’t do that. It’ll only cause him to suffer even more than he is.”
I mutter under my breath, doing my best to heave the wolf into my arms. Struggling to keep my movements gentle and slow—I don’t want to hurt him or make him feel worse—still, the wolf is so much heavier than I expected.
“I have to get him back to Enchantment,” I say, my voice frantic, betraying the full depth of my anxiety. “Chay’s a vet—he can fix him. I’m sure of it. So please, either help me or move out of my way.”
