But neither can happen right now.
The trees are rustling with a breeze that smells like smoke.
We know what that smell brings.
The last thing I want to see right now is the Harrows.
We mount up and ride.
* * *
My mood is off by a few thousand degrees, and Riot feels it.
He keeps us covered in flames, and won't pull back on them.
He burns so hot he leaves a trail of charred hoofprints, which is a problem. If the Harrows are out there trying to hunt us down, we don't need to become any easier to find.
I rest my hand on his withers, trying to convince him that I'm all right, but until I know Daryn's all right, I won't really be. It's a chain reaction.
An hour later, the burnt smell is gone. The wind has died down, and leaves hang still on the branches. Feeling relatively safe from the Harrows, we ride abreast so we can talk about what happened.
Marcus wants to know. Jode really wants to know. And they deserve to. They're at the mercy of this place, too.
I describe falling through the ground, then falling through darkness for ten minutes or maybe more, and finally ending up in Dad's truck with Daryn beside me.
"You saw your dad's death?" Marcus asks. He looks worried. He knows how that day still haunts me.
I shake my head. "He wasn't there. It was only the place. The house where it happened."
"You were in the truck. Then what?" Jode asks.
"It went dark. We were mauled by roots, and then we came back up." Something keeps me from telling them about Daryn's mom being the one on the roof of the yellow bungalow.
I glance at her and find her watching me, her eyes narrowed in anger. "You don't have to protect me, Gideon," she says. Then she gets Shadow moving and pulls ahead.
I want to go after her. But I need to figure out where I went wrong first.
Marcus looks at me. He cues Ruin, catching up to Daryn.
"Traitor," I mutter.
"Yes," Jode says in a deadpan. "He's ever so eager to betray you."
* * *
The day grows bright, even under the thick canopy.
Sunlight catches dust motes swirling in the air and peppers the forest floor with white spots, illuminating our tour through psychological land mines. Judging by what Daryn and I just experienced, the tour is now interactive.
We're ready for it. Every one of us feels a constant mild headache. It's so constant, we start to not notice it.
Game on, Rift. Bring it.
We come across a red canoe resting on the forest floor. It's made of real wood and looks authentic, handcrafted and old, like something passed down through generations.
I hear Daryn explain to Marcus that it's from her family cabin in Maine. "My sister and I spent a lot of summers in that canoe," she tells him. "My mom painted it."
She says nothing more, but I know she's thinking about what we went through this morning. I don't know how we rolled right into not talking about it. Ignoring it. Maybe it was me.
Did I make it this way?
We see my catcher's mitt in the dirt, just lying there. This thing that was a huge part of my life two years ago. Baseball was everything to me. I wanted to play in college. I was working my ass off trying to get scholarship looks, and things were heading in the right direction. Now I have no dad. I have one hand and a burning horse. A few hours ago, I thought I had a girlfriend-first one I've ever really wanted. Not sure about that anymore.
Marcus claims a thick flannel blanket draped over a branch, but he offers no story. Then we see a flute resting against the trunk of a tree. Jode lifts his land and says, "Mine. No further comments, please."
We start calling them relics, these physical objects. Relics from our pasts. But we don't fall through the ground or come face-to-face with death, so. That's a plus. This place is redefining my standards.
Hours pass. We've been so focused on staying alive and absorbed in the relics that finding Bas hasn't been our top priority-which is a major problem. And we're running out of food and water-also a major problem.
I'm starting to think we've lost another day when Daryn says, "Guys, look."
She points up ahead, where the woods thin.
Riding up, we find a field of fallen trees. Burnt trees like the one we saw yesterday. Broken open. Charred on the inside. Crumbling trunks and cracked bark lie scattered across the field like dead on a battlefield.
A burnt smell seeps into my nose. Of course, considering we're surrounded by fire damage. But my heart starts to thunder and I scan the edges of the field for any sign of rustling leaves or swaying branches.
"Guys, over here!" Daryn's halfway across the field already. She tucks in as Shadow breaks into a gallop.