Fated

hands me the small black bag Paloma packed, saying, “Daire, don’t worry. You’ll do fine. Really.”
    I swallow hard, not believing a word of it but taking a long deep breath and stepping across that thick line of white anyway.
    “What am I supposed to do in here?” I ask, testing my surroundings by running a finger down a wall that’s surprisingly smooth to the touch.
    Seeing Chay squint when he says, “Well, it’s been a long time since my own vision quest, but—”
    “Wait—you did this too?” I step toward him, staring incredulously. “Are you a Seeker too?”
    He shakes his head. “Can’t say that I am. Though the idea of the vision quest is no stranger to my people—my people being the Native Americans.” His eyes twinkle when he says it. “When I was a young man, about the age you are now, I felt conflicted about my future, wasn’t sure which direction to take. My quest helped me realize my affinity for animals was more than a hobby—it was an actual calling. So, I enrolled in vet school and never looked back.”
    “And how long did you have to starve in a cave to come to that conclusion?” I ask, sorry about the way my voice sounded much snottier than intended. It’s not his fault I find myself here. Still, when Paloma said I’d have to change my diet in order to purify myself, I didn’t realize that meant fasting in a dark, abandoned cave until I pass out.
    “I spent three full days on the mountain.” His gaze grows distant, carried away by a long-ago memory. “It was an intense experience—one that revealed many things—many prophetic things. Some that have already happened, others that might still happen—the kind of things I will never forget. I expect you’ll have a similar experience. So it’s best you get started.”
    I glance behind me, finding it so dark I can’t even see how deep it is, can’t see much of anything.
    “Remain calm,” Chay tells me. “Find a place to sit quietly, and it won’t be long before your eyes adjust to the dark so the light can find you.”
    I turn to face him. That’s exactly what Jennika used to say back when I was a child to wean me from the night-light she found so annoying. Same thing I told myself when I followed Vane into that deserted Moroccan alleyway. In both cases, it worked to quell my fears—so hopefully, it’ll work here as well.
    “The white line will keep you protected, ensure that no intruders find their way in. But make no mistake, Daire, you’re only safe as long as you remain inside. If you head out, if you’re lured from the cave before the time is right—all bets are off.”
    I nod, watching as he retraces the border with a fresh pour of salt. Clinging to his parting words, “You can do this,” as he disappears down the trail, leaving me to face the dark on my own.

nineteen
    I hover by the entrance—toes on the right side, the safe side, of that thick white border. My heart leaping into my throat when a rattlesnake slithers past, paying me absolutely no notice, and I watch in fascination a few minutes later when a scorpion follows suit.
    Well, it works on reptiles and insects. Let’s hope it works on bigger animals too—like those of the warm-blooded, carnivorous, mammal variety.
    It’s not until the sun rises high enough to hang in the middle of the sky that I venture farther in. Noting how the cave’s smooth walls narrow—how its ceiling shrinks until it ultimately ends at a point in the dirt.
    It’s not nearly as big as I thought.
    It’s not nearly as scary either.
    I consider that a good thing. I’ll take what I can get.
    At first glance, it seems there’s nothing special about it. Seems like any other cave I’ve ever seen on TV or in movies, despite the lack of stick-figure battle scenes and other kinds of hieroglyphs.
    Though a closer look reveals that I’m wrong. There’s a series of scrawls on the far part of the wall that I somehow missed at first glance. A long list of names left there by my ancestors.
    Each of them leaving their first and last name, along with a sketch of an animal just alongside it that served as their guide.
    Valentina Santos is the first—her name appearing at the highest possible point—scrawled in the space where the wall curves into the ceiling. Her writing faded, angular, with a dark-eyed raccoon drawn in intricate detail placed just beside it.
    Esperanto Santos is next, and just beside him is a large black bat.
    Piann Santos was guided by a fox—a red