Fated

to push him to the ground, clamp my legs on either side of him, and slam his face into the dirt.
    Shouting in victory as I tighten my grip—my triumph short-lived when I realize I have no idea what comes next.

fifty
    He struggles against me, fights to break free, but I use all my strength to cling fast to his back and tighten my hold. One hand fisting around a greasy clump of black hair, I yank his head back, and shove my free hand into his mouth. Having no idea if I’m on the right track, but knowing that one way or another, I have to get this thing out.
    The soul no longer lost, it’s time to retrieve it—time to wrench it from him so I can return it to Paloma. But with no idea how to do that, I shout, “Give it to me!” Fingers pushing past his tongue, going straight for his throat, when he bites down so hard it threatens to break through my skin.
    I yank my hand free, shrieking in frustration and pain, as I grasp his hair tighter and slam his face into the dirt so hard bits of mask break free and embed in his flesh—repeating the move so many times I lose track.
    Stopping only when a voice drifts from behind me and says, “I can’t say I blame you, but we really need to keep him alive.”
    Dace!
    He kneels beside me, answering the question in my gaze when he says, “I heard your call. Horse brought me here as quickly as he could—Raven led the way.”
    He heard the call?
    Along with the wind, the earth, and my spirit animal?
    Maybe there really was more to the dream than I think—a reason we found each other before we’d even met?
    Maybe we really are bound in some way?
    I look to his right, seeing Raven perched high in a tree, while Horse stands off to the side. The two of them keeping a protective eye on us and a wary eye on the undead Richter, unsure what to make of him.
    “Is this the freak that stole Paloma’s soul?” Dace asks.
    I swallow hard and nod in reply. Unwilling to tell him that the freak merely ate it—that it’s his brother who stole it and served it to him.
    He turns. Casts all about. Focusing on a vine hanging from a nearby tree, his breath slows, his lids narrow, and the next thing I know it’s found its way to his hand, and he’s using it to bind the freak’s arms and feet.
    Then he looks at me. I smile at him, and without a single mention of it, he says, “Wolf is stabilized for now.” His brow slants with worry. “Still, we don’t have much time.”
    “What do we do?” I loosen my grip on the freak now that Dace has subdued him.
    “I don’t know,” he admits. “Soul extraction requires years of training. Though I do know you can’t just reach in and grab it, you have to know how to handle it. One false move and you can lose it for good. Back when I was a kid, the elders used to talk about a particular…” He pauses, searching for the best word. “A particular denizen of the Lowerworld who they sometimes turned to for help. She’s considered quite dangerous, and in our case, she has no reason to cooperate. Though if the barter is right, she might consider it…” His voice fades, unwilling to say any more, fearing he’s gone too far.
    “Do you know where to find her?” I ask, determined to speak to her one way or another.
    He shakes his head. “All I know is that she resides in the nethermost level. And while our spirit animals may not want to join us, they can probably at least get us started.”
    I rise to my feet, facing Raven and Horse as I say, “Show us the way.”
    *   *   *
    We head for a shallow trickle of river, Raven and Horse leading, as Dace and I drag the undead Richter behind us. Stopping at the place where the water meets the sand, Raven and Horse refuse to go any farther, as the three of us continue to trudge along the path.
    The water soaking my jeans, the rocks ripping the hems to shreds, and when Dace looks down, asks what happened to my shoes, I just shake my head, tighten my hold on the freak, and keep going. The three of us making good progress until the river grows deeper and the current changes so swiftly, we’re swept downstream and abandoned to a series of falls that send us hurtling deeper and deeper into the earth. Reminding me of what Paloma said about the Lowerworld consisting of many dimensions, and sensing we’re getting pulled into yet another one, and then another, the lower we go. Finding our way to the nethermost.
    The torrent growing in intensity, becoming so fierce, we lose our grip on the undead