For the third time on this trip, Thalia finds that it is a great struggle to draw in air to sate her thirsty lungs.

The first time had been when the river had come charging like an angry pack of gnawers through the ceiling of the Swag and forced them into the depths. It had gripped her tightly and brought her deep below, tossing her about the cavern with impunity. The water had pressed against her fur and stolen the air from her lungs. But she had survived — had broken through and made her way to Hazard. She had survived because she had to. It could not be true that this was to be the end, neither for her nor Hazard.

The second time had been when the currents had twisted and spun her relentlessly in circles, when the wind had beat and torn at her wings so fiercely that she had thought that a gnawer had a claw in her. And once that fancy had passed, the truth had been all the more terrifying — that it was not a living creature but the very air which she usually manipulated with ease that had made itself her enemy. It had spun her about and pulled at her with no mercy, until she had been so tired that she could hardly breathe.

Both times, she had thought, if only for a moment, that she would surely die. But she had not.

This is the third time.

Thalia beats her wings up and down and attempts to force all negative thoughts from her mind. Beat, beat. Only fly. That is the only thing to do. There is a current beneath her wings, a good current, and Ares above her head. Should she fall, he will catch her. Like in the flood, when she had dived for Hazard, and he had pulled both of them out.

A rumble crackles through the Firelands. It is a promise of fumes that choke and lava that swallows everything whole. Thalia knows not quite what this is. She has not learned it yet. She has not learned— not learned—

Her thoughts are so dull now. Sensations sliding amongst each other, liquifying amidst the fumes. The smell of the corpses by the foot of the cliff… the screams of the nibblers that had filled her with more terror than the sight of their bodies before Nike had covered her eyes… the grip of the stinger's pincer on her wings… the currents and the Swag, the sensation that no matter what, there would be nothing left to breathe…

Think not of that. Think of Hazard. Think of the others. Think of… amusing things.

"Thalia," comes Ares' voice, far away, "hang on. I have got you. We are almost there. Almost there."

Almost there. Almost there. Just a little more.

We mean to be bonds!

Ares' claws pulling her from the water.

No! No!

Hazard's hands shielding her from death.

What did one wall say to the other?

Luxa delivering her from the currents. Gregor's joke… how did it go?

Something erupts and wipes the world from her ears. Her eyes, her nose. Ares' claws are still locked around her.

Still locked…

Still…

What did one wall say to the other?

Thalia laughs a little in her mind. Meet…

You…

At the…