Trapped

bear-human hybrid isn’t supernatural? «
    › Lie down and offer your throat. No, wait, that’s how dogs submit. I know! Give her your wallet! ‹
    » Yes, it is, Granuaile, and you handled it superbly, no doubt. But right now you can’t heal yourself if you get wounded. You can’t speed up or cast camouflage or take advantage of any of the spells I regularly use to stay alive. I would very much like to make sure you stay alive, so I hope you’ll forgive my poor choice of words. I wanted Frigg to go away, that’s all. «
    She gazed at me, her disbelief every bit as plain as her disapproval, but she had no more desire to wrangle over it. She turned her back on me, leaving me unforgiven, and we trudged westward toward Olympus without speaking a word to each other.
    A hot hour’s hike up the valley finally brought us good news from Oberon.
    › Atticus, I think I found a place! ‹
    You did? Where?
    › I can see you from here. ‹
    I looked around me and saw nothing but more trees, stubborn undergrowth, and a few stretches of bare rock wall ahead, where the mountain fell precipitously into the wash. I could hear it running with winter snowmelt but couldn’t see it yet.
    I don’t see you , I told Oberon.
    › That’s the kind of place you want, right? ‹
    It is indeed .
    › Keep heading toward the water. I’ll direct you when you get closer. ‹
    After I gave Granuaile some encouragement that we were near a possible campsite, we shoved our way through the brush to the water’s edge. It was a narrow, rocky stream, easily jumped in some places but running fast.
    Can you still see us? I asked Oberon.
    › Sure can. You’re looking for a good place to cross that torrential sluice of doom. That was an excellent example of both hyperbole and assonance, by the way, for which I deserve a turkey leg and a long brush by a tall person with soft hands. ‹
    Where do we go from here?
    › Upstream. I’m on a ledge on the other side. There’s a pine tree here and some thorn, but behind it there’s a cave in the side of the mountain. ‹
    I looked in that direction and saw the place he was talking about—I saw the tree on the ledge, anyway. Awesome. Any animal tracks or other sign in there?
    › Yeah, but they’re years old. ‹
    Is the cave deep enough for us to lie down, tall enough to stand?
    › It’s definitely deep enough. You might have to watch your head, but I think you can walk for most of it. ‹
    The difficulty we faced getting up to the ledge only made it more attractive to me once we finally arrived; there was very little chance we’d be disturbed by any humans in a place like this—few people are trailblazers anymore, when it’s so much safer and easier to follow the trails already blazed.
    We hopped the stream about thirty yards past the tree, then struggled our way up to the ledge. Oberon waited at the mouth of the cave, wagging his tail. The entrance was completely choked with brush, but it was spacious inside.
    How did you ever think to look for this? I asked Oberon.
    › I didn’t think of it, to be honest. Finding it was a happy accident. You see, there was a squirrel on that pine tree, giving me some lip as I was passing down by the stream. He said some bawdy things about my mom— ‹
    Oberon, come on .
    › Well, all right, I don’t know what he said, but he definitely had an attitude, just like all squirrels, and he deserved to be chased up to the top and kept there for a while. I wouldn’t have come up here otherwise. ‹
    Well, this is perfect. We owe that squirrel for leading you here .
    › Wait a second! How come the squirrel gets all the credit? ‹
    I was thinking he’d get all the credit and you’d get all the sausage .
    › Oh! That sounds completely fair, Atticus; I really can’t argue with that. ‹
    » We’re going to camp here, then? « Granuaile asked, peering into the cave and breaking the silence.
    » Maybe, « I said. » Let me scope this out first. « Using the magic stored in my bear charm, I triggered my faerie specs and looked for any indication that there was a magical booby trap here or an alarm that would go off if I drew power from the earth. This cave could be the favorite spot of a cyclops or a nymph or something spookier than an old monster like Agrios. It took a while to check thoroughly; any magic performed by the Greeks wouldn’t look like the Celtic bindings of my own work. I found nothing. The ceiling of the cave wasn’t blackened by the smoke