The Hidden Deep by Christa J. Kinde Page B

Thecaves really were like a labyrinth, and Prissie was hopelessly lost. Down here, the air was still, and the silence was suffocating. Darkness seemed to take on a life of its own, pushing against her, playing tricks on her.
    When they reached another turning, her tiny companion leapt into the air, then spun and flung himself over the end of the flashlight, giving her a pleading look. Somehow understanding, Prissie switched it off, leaving only the little angel’s glow to see by. However, he dove closer and burrowed down inside her jacket’s collar, effectively snuffing out the last glimmer.
    He was trembling, which frightened Prissie even more than the pitch black. Crouching down, she made herself as small as possible against the tunnel wall. From somewhere in the darkness ahead came a sour note, off-key and unpleasant. She held her breath, listening with all her might. A dull
clink
was followed by a crunching sound that reminded Prissie uneasily of a barn cat eating a mouse. She cupped her hand around her little passenger and curled more tightly, hiding her face on her knees as her heart sent up a silent plea for help.
    Seconds ticked by, though Prissie forgot to count them, and eventually, the yahavim’s trembling eased. He popped back up, and when she straightened, he fluttered to a perch on her upraised knees. For several moments, he seemed to be listening to something in the silence, but then he faced her squarely. Putting a finger to his lips, he then pointed to the ground. “I’m supposed to stay?” she asked breathlessly. His nod was accompanied by a slight increase in brightness, but Prissie couldn’t be glad. “Does that mean you’re going?” Another nod.
    Impulsively, she asked, “Then do you want to take this?”
    Faceted eyes widened, and for a moment, he was too bright to see. With a joyous somersault, he gave thanks for the blue plastic flashlight, then held out both his arms to accept her gift. He tested its weight with a couple of short hops on her outstretched hand, his wings humming with the effort, and then he nodded. It would work. Before leaving, he placed something on her palm. “Manna?” she gasped. He took flight, hovering close until Prissie held the precious wafer between her fingertips, and then he fluttered away, dipping and bobbing under the burden of Ransom’s flashlight. “Be careful, little angel,” she whispered after him.
    Prissie watched until there was no light left, then slipped the manna into her mouth and blinked back tears as its sweetness spread over her tongue. “I did the right thing. Right?” she asked tremulously. It was a very good question, but no one answered. Prissie couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alone.
    Sounds were too loud because there weren’t enough of them. To blend into the silence, Prissie found herself talking shallow breaths. Could the enemies hear the beating of her heart or the dripping of each tear that seeped between her lashes? She’d never been so scared in her whole life, even when she was falling, because
then
, there had been someone to catch her. No, it was
much
worse to be alone.
    Suddenly, she heard a scrape. Prissie curled more tightly, and tried to be quiet, but a sniffle escaped.
    “Prissie,” someone called. “I’m coming, so sit tight.”
    She didn’t recognize the voice, but in a few moments, the clatter of loose stones came closer, and light blazed around her, hurting her eyes. Hiding her face, she squinted until she was able to make out a pair of heavy boots and blue jeans in the pool of flashlight. Her rescuer crouched down in front of her, and Prissie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Y-you?”
    After all the twists and turns she’d taken, she’d expected it to take days for anyone to find her — man or angel. The last thing she’d expected was Marcus Truman. “What are
you
doing here?” she asked numbly.
    “You’ve gone astray, and I’m here to lead you back into the fold,” he replied,