VirtualHeaven by Ann Lawrence Page B

his face and then holding them away at arm’s
length, scowling and muttering inarticulately as he worked. “Come here,” he
said finally.
    “Please? Oh, never mind.” Maggie scooted close to him. She
stared down at his handiwork.
    “Foot.” Kered turned a hand palm up to her. She slapped her
dirty shoe into his waiting hand, like a nurse assisting a surgeon. He clamped
his fingers tightly about her ankle.
    “Yow!” Maggie gasped at the strength of his grip.
    Kered wrapped the strip of cloak about her shoe and then
used a curved hook from his pack to thread a leather thong through the holes
he’d punched along the edge. He squinted with displeasure all the while.
    When he had finished and placed her foot in the red dust,
she wore a furry boot. She offered her left foot and he swiftly secured the
second strip of cloak.
    He rose to his full height and stuffed his tools into the
pack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he began to march away.
    Maggie ran up to his side. “Thank you, Kered. These shoes
are for dancing, not marching. My feet were killing me.”
    “Fourth level of awareness,” he snorted, staring straight
ahead.
    “Fourth level? Gee, foot discomfort takes a lot of awareness
to overcome, doesn’t it?”
    “No, the fourth level of awareness is when you learn to
admit to weakness and seek solutions.”
    “How humiliating,” Maggie murmured as she fell into step
behind him, placing her furry boots in his footprints. “Cur.” She stuck her
tongue out at his back and determined not to say another word to him.
     
    Darkness fell with no warning. The wind rose, swirling cold
streams of air up her skirt as she plodded along. Every muscle in her body
ached and her nose itched. Her shoulders drooped. They’d reached the mountain
range at least an hour before and had been walking parallel to its base. Except
for its color, Maggie was reminded of a string of Devil’s Towers, marching arm
in arm, as far as the eye could see.
    “There.” Kered pointed to a dark shadow fifteen or twenty
yards over their heads.
    “How do we get up?” Maggie tipped her head back and gulped
at the sheer, ragged wall of rock.
    Kered ignored her question and strapped his pack to her
back. “Climb on.” He turned away and went down on one knee.
    Without thinking about what he intended, Maggie threw her
arms around his neck and wrapped her legs about his waist. He leaped against
the rock face.
    She screamed all the way to the cave, in his ear, long and
loud. He climbed with little pause to search for handholds or footholds, just
seemed to cling to the rock and scramble up and up.
    When he set her down at the cave’s mouth, she collapsed in
shock. “Stop grinning, you arrogant—” She swatted away his proffered hand. “I
can get up on my own. Next time, warn me before you do something so dangerous.
I need to say my prayers before I die! Who taught you that? Spider-Man?”
    “Spider-Man? You babble nonsense.” He shook his head and
disappeared into the black interior of the cave.
    It was almost as dark inside the cave as it was outside. She
staggered to her feet silently and nervously. Where was he? He moved so quietly
that it was as if he had vanished into thin air. Goose bumps broke out on her
arms, and she rubbed them briskly to warm herself.
    Kered stepped from the shadows. “Come.” He paused and
gripped her arm. “What is this? A disease?”
    Maggie shook her head. “No, it’s called goose bumps. I’m
cold. Don’t worry, it’s not catching.”
    “Hm.” He turned her arm over, holding it away and turning it
back and forth. “‘Tis strange. Most strange.” He dropped her arm, then moved
swiftly into the cave.
    Eagerly she followed him, snatching at his cloak and hanging
on so he didn’t get away this time. They wove through the silent black cave. He
seemed to navigate easily despite the lack of light. Probably the fifth level
of awareness, she thought, seeing in the dark, ignoring the possibilities