The first part of the Labyrinth was still the endless corridor around its border. Sarah felt her heart sink looking at it; she'd spent hours running here, the first time, until she'd collapsed in frustration. Someone had told her the way…

"The worm," Sarah murmured, remembering. "He kept inviting me in to meet the missus. He told me there were openings everywhere. They were optical illusions, though, I couldn't see one until I walked into it."

By that logic, she hopefully wouldn't have to go far before finding a way in. Sarah started out, peering intently at the bricks on each side, hoping to spy out an entry point. Every time she thought she might've found one, though, her questing hand met solid brick.

All right, it made sense not to put any openings near the gates. Sarah picked up her pace, jogging easily along the path. As before, there were fallen branches in her way, but this part of the Labyrinth seemed neglected. She kicked through piles of leaves, had to sidestep tangles of briers, and at one point even had to jump over a large puddle of oily-looking water. Frowning, Sarah tried more and more walls, hoping one would be a doorway.

She quickly learned caution. Slimy mold coated some of the bricks, and Sarah unwisely put her hand squarely into some of it. It felt like cold gelatin squirming between her fingers; she made a moue of disgust as she rubbed the icky stuff off against a cleaner section. Further on, she inadvertently put her hand in the path of some unusually large ants. Unlike the worm from her first visit, the insects didn't talk, but they did bite, pinching her skin. She was only just able to shake them off before they drew blood. And again, a harmless-looking vine tried to twine itself around her wrist, losing most of its leaves as Sarah yanked her hand back.

"All right!" she yelled. "I get it, I'm not supposed to touch stuff, but how the hell am I gonna find a way in if I can't see it or touch it?" She kicked at a loose stone, sending it skipping along the corridor for a ways. That relieved her temper enough for Sarah to continue on, testing possible openings with more care.

This part of the Labyrinth was repetitive, seemingly endless, and her search felt fruitless. The despair that threatened to overwhelm her reminded Sarah too much of her last serious relationship, perhaps because Toby had mentioned him. Strange how that phone call seemed like it had happened ages ago, when in reality it had been less than an hour, and her brother's voice was still fresh in her mind.

Barton. She shouldn't be thinking of Barton at a time like this, but now that Sarah's mind had conjured him up, she couldn't let go. Toby had never liked him, and even Karen had thought he was too ordinary for Sarah. A junior executive, he worked for a bank, wore suits on weekdays and khakis on weekends, and generally dealt with numbers more than people. In almost five years together, Sarah had never heard him express a radical opinion or a deep passion. He was moderate in all things, and she'd never seen him lost to an extreme of anger or sorrow or even drunkenness. Barton was safe.

Sarah herself was the most unusual thing about Barton. They had met at Dallas-Fort Worth airport in Texas, her coming home from visiting old friends in L.A., him coming back from company training in San Francisco. It was summer, and a tropical storm had brought in enough rain and wind to cancel flights, including the one she and Barton should've been on. Sarah had gone to one of the airport restaurants, and with so many stranded travelers, tables were at a premium. She'd ended up sharing one with Barton, striking up a conversation with him.

That might've been the end of it, but when they finally got a flight home the next day, he'd been in the seat next to her. Conversation continued, and she decided she liked him. He was personable, interested in her work, also interested in her but not too pushy about it, and when he'd asked for her number as they landed, she'd given it to him. On their first date, she'd convinced him to try tres leches cake for dessert, and the puzzled yet pleased expression on his face at the first taste was one she saw often during their relationship. Sarah herself was a new experience for him, evidently, and whenever she surprised and delighted him, that little half-smile would curve his lips. He had liked her, then loved her, but she got the feeling he'd never really understood her. Some of which was probably her fault.

A difference in the Labyrinth corridor jolted Sarah out of her reverie, which she welcomed. Ahead the path was blocked by the trunk of a fallen tree. That wasn't too much a surprise, and she supposed it had toppled into this area during a particularly savage storm. Sarah started to hop up onto the trunk, and paused just in time. She could see the tail of a snake, the same mottled brown as the log, and if it hadn't twitched she might've stepped on it.

Her fifteen-year-old self had been scared of snakes, partly because a certain jackass of a king had startled a yelp from her by tossing one at her face. In defiance, she'd conquered that fear, even pet-sat a friend's python for two weeks. So she wasn't scared of the little brown snake that had evidently paused while crawling over the log—but this was the Labyrinth, and it might be venomous. Sarah broke off a branch of a skeletal bush nearby, and prodded lightly at the snake's tail, hoping to give it the idea to move on.

The tail flicked away swiftly, and Sarah started to breathe a sigh of relief. But then the entire log started moving, and she heard a grinding noise of something rubbing against brick. She saw the tail disappearing into a newly-revealed hole in the bottom of the wall again just as she realized the log was growing narrower as it slid away. A strangled scream rose up in Sarah's throat, as twenty feet away a massive scaled head rose up higher than she stood, turning slowly to regard her.

Not a tree, not a tree, holy shit it's a snake, it's all one big snake, a snake big enough to eat me in one bite, her mind babbled, as her legs took charge and fled. She tore back the way she'd come, but it seemed as though she heard the slithering and rustling of pursuit, and Sarah flung herself at a barely-glimpsed opening.

Within moments she was forced to halt, having left the outer corridor and made her way at last into the stone maze. Sarah was panting too hard to hear anything else, and forced herself to hold her breath for a few minutes. Nothing was chasing her, so she let herself lean over with hands braced on her knees and try to regain her breath for a few minutes. It would be a long time before she could consider sitting on a fallen log or stump.

"I see you've met the serpent," Jareth said conversationally, from somewhere close by.

Sarah whirled to glare at him. The Goblin King was leaning up against a wall, arms crossed, twirling a trio of crystal balls in one gloved hand. She managed to confine her wrath to a few icy words. "I did. You should feed your pets more often, you know."

He scoffed. "That thing is no pet of mine. It showed up here a few years after your last visit, and comes into the city on occasion. The goblins drive it back to the swamp with torches and nippers."

"Why don't you chase it off?" she asked in faux sugary tones. "Too scared?"

She'd hoped that would provoke him, but he only shrugged. "It is only a beast. Too slow for a sporting hunt, too stupid for magic to work on its mind. If I deal with it, I must kill it. And that, my dear Sarah, I prefer not to do, unless and until it is called for." He favored her with a savage grin. "So far the serpent has only stolen chickens. If it kills one of my subjects, I'll have its hide."

"Yeah, and then you'd have a pair of snakeskin pants. Why does this not surprise me?" Sarah rolled her eyes, then cut him another glare. "And don't try to sound protective. I'm not your subject, your pontificating majesty, and I wouldn't expect you to rescue me from that thing, or kill it if it caught me."

His smile was as mocking as ever. "Have no fear, Sarah. If the serpent did try to make a meal of you, I trust you'd be more than equal to the task of vanquishing it. In fact, I might pity the poor beast enough to rescue it from you."

She tossed her hair and turned away. "At least you're finally realizing just what the most dangerous thing in this Labyrinth is."

"Oh, I knew that years ago, Sarah." His voice seemed to fade, and though she whirled to confront him, the Goblin King had disappeared.

"Disappearing jackass," Sarah muttered under her breath, and headed onward.