Noctuidae by Scott Nicolay

quick as we can. If that thing comes back, I figure it will show up here, and I want to be far away by then.
    He led on and she followed, taking extra care now to maintain three points of contact with the walls at all times, grimacing each time she moved her left foot and felt her sodden wool sock squish inside her boot.
    The limited beam from Sue-Min’s weak LED light fell mainly on Pete’s advancing back, the khaki shirt he wore a broad reflective canvas. As she watched his halting forward motion she considered the exchange they just shared, the way he helped her. He’d been civil, gentlemanly, even compassionate. The same guy who tried to force himself on her only a couple hours ago. Maybe being afraid a monster would eat him brought out the best in his personality. If only a giant monster were chasing him every minute in his life, he might become a decent guy, maybe even pick up where he left off on his theater career, learn to tap dance, acquire an interest in show tunes. . .
    She almost laughed at her thoughts but caught the laugh in her throat so only a strangled hiccup emerged.
    Pete didn’t stop or turn around but asked —What was that? You okay? You need a break?
    —No, I’m fine. Let’s keep going.
    Soon they reached a spot Pete identified as where they’d come down before, though it all looked the same to her in the dark. How hard would it be to retrace their route if they didn’t come up in the right place?
    But Pete was asking if she was ready, and why argue? They began their ascent, which was shorter and easier than their descent and did not take long.
    Once at the top they followed the cliff edge back, scanning for landmarks in what terrain their lights revealed, searching for where they’d first come out on the canyon’s rim, each suggesting this tree might or might not look familiar, that bush, this twisted snag. They could see only hints of the opposite face, and nothing of the chasm now far below. The odd gray light Sue-Min thought might have been dawn had departed, and the moon had set as well. The stars, though bright now, offered very little illumination.
    Neither of them spoke about it aloud, but she was certain Pete shared her fear they had come up past the point they were seeking, and were now wandering further up Blossom Creek Canyon than they’d been so far—and if they were, how long would it be before they figured it out? They might go a mile if the canyon ran that long before it boxed off.
    When Pete at last claimed they’d arrived at that spot where they first reached the cliff, Sue-Min was sure he was wrong. She would recall that outcrop, that juniper leaning out over the void. She didn’t argue though. What good would it do? Following Pete was easy enough. If he were wrong, they’d still find their way in time, though they might have to double back. With her own volition exhausted, allowing Pete to lead was the simple option. Let him get the credit or take the blame if they got lost. She wanted nothing but to get out of the canyon, get in the truck, get help. They progressed into the wood. She stopped trying to decide whether she’d come this way before.
    They picked their way between outcrops and trees, leafless branches showing stark in their headlamps against the black background. Sue-Min began to consider just how lost they could get out here. But they had to hit the Blue River eventually, didn’t they?
    —Whoa! Pete stopped cold, spoke in his stage whisper again, left hand splayed out behind his back as if to hold her back. —You see that?
    —See what? And then she did. A pale pink gleam backlit the trees ahead, shining the same hue as the blobs that wandered through the cave.
    She took the two strides that brought her up beside Pete and halted, but she couldn’t see any better from there, just the trees silhouetted against a strange stretch of pale rosy light. —What is it?
    —Damned if I know. I thought it might be the dawn for a sec, but no, it’s