Those ten feet took us the longest to traverse. And I despaired at the amount of time we used to squeeze two grown men through a narrow space. It might be impossible to catch up with Cahil and the others. And Moon Man’s panic attack when he had become wedged for a moment had set everyone’s mood on edge.

Standing ankle deep in bat droppings, we made for a miserable group. My dismay reflected in everyone’s face. And it wasn’t due to the putrid and acidic smell. Leif’s shoulders were scratched raw and bloody, and the skin on Moon Man’s arms looked shredded. Blood dripped from his hands.

Moon Man’s breathing rasped. “Go back. We should…go back.” He panted. “Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.”

I suppressed my worries about Cahil. Connecting with the power source, I gathered a fiber of magic and sought Moon Man’s mind. A claustrophobic fear had pushed logic and reason aside. I probed deeper into his thoughts to find the strong unflappable Story Weaver, reminding him of the importance of our journey. A Sandseed Story Weaver would not let himself panic. Moon Man’s breathing settled as calm reclaimed his emotions. I withdrew from his mind.

“I am sorry. I do not like this cave,” Moon Man said.

“No one does,” Leif muttered.

Keeping my thread of magic, I focused on Moon Man’s arms. Large chunks of his skin had been gouged out. My upper limbs burned with pain as I concentrated on his injuries. When I could no longer endure the stinging fire, I used magic to push it away from me. I swayed with relief and would have fallen to the floor if Leif hadn’t grabbed me.

Moon Man examined his arms. “I could not lend you my strength this time,” he said. “Your magic held me immobile.”

“What’s this?” Leif asked.

He raised my hand into the light. Blood streaked my skin, but I couldn’t find any damage. When I had helped Tula , one of Ferde’s victims and Opal’s sister, Irys had speculated that I had assumed her injuries then healed myself. I guessed it had been the same with Marrok’s crushed cheek. But seeing the physical evidence turned Irys’s theory into reality. I stared at the blood and felt light-headed.

“That’s interesting,” Leif said.

“Interesting in a good way or bad?” I asked.

“I don’t know. No one has done that before.”

I appealed to Moon Man.

“A couple Story Weavers have the power to heal, but not like that,” he said. “Perhaps it is something only a Soulfinder can do.”

“Perhaps? You don’t know? Then why have you led me to believe you know everything about me?” I demanded.

He rubbed his newly healed arm. “I am your Story Weaver. I do know everything about you. However, I do not know everything about Soulfinders. Do you define yourself strictly by that title?”

“No.” I avoided the title.

“Well then,” he said, as if that settled the matter.

“Let’s go,” Marrok said through his shirt. He had covered his nose and mouth to block the smell. “The Daviians’ trail through this muck is easy to follow.”

With Marrok in the lead, we stepped with care. About halfway through the bats’ cavern, I sensed an awakening. Sending a thin tendril of power, I linked with the dark minds above me as they floated toward a collective consciousness. Their need for food pushed at me, and, through them, I felt the exact location of each bat, of each wall, of each exit, of each rock, and each figure below. They launched.

“Duck!” I yelled as the cloud of flying creatures descended.

The drone of beating wings reached a crescendo as black bodies flew around us. The air swirled and filled with bats. They deftly avoided knocking into us or each other as they headed toward the exit, seeking the insects and berries of the jungle.

My mind traveled with them. The instinctual exodus of thousands of bats flying through the tight tunnels of the cave was as organized as a military attack. And like any well-planned event, it took time for all the bats to leave.

The muscles in my legs burned when I finally straightened. The flapping and fluttering sounds echoed from the tunnels then faded. I looked at my companions. No one appeared to be hurt, although a few of us were splattered with dung.

Marrok had dropped his torch, and his arms covered his head. He puffed with alarm.

“Captain Marrok,” I said, hoping to calm him. “Give me your torch.”

My order pierced his panic. He picked up the unlit stick. “Why?”

“Because the bats have shown me the way out.” I cringed as my hand closed on the muck-covered handle. “Leif, can you relight this?”

Leif nodded. Flames grew. When the torch burned on its own, he asked, “How far to the jungle?”

“Not far.” I led the group, setting a quick pace. No one complained. All were as eager as I to exit the cave.

The sound of rushing water and a glorious freshness to the air were the only signs we had reached our destination. The day had turned into night while we had traveled through the cave.

From the bats, I knew water flowed along the floor of the exit and dropped down about twenty feet to the jungle. The waterfall splashed onto a tumble of rocks.

The others followed me to the edge of the stream. We doused the torches and waited for our eyes to adjust to the weak moonlight. I scanned the jungle below with my magic, searching for signs of an ambush and for tree leopards. Necklace snakes were also a danger to us, but the only life I touched were small creatures scurrying through the underbrush.