Sunbeam Lair Heaven and Hell

If Donovan saw the encounter as a friendly, innocuous exploration into unknown territory, just for the fun of it, Finley read something else into it entirely. He fell silent after his first question, as if doubting her honesty, and it compelled her to bite her tongue as their travels continued. The cavern’s space drew ever closer, pinching them between ceiling and water again until both were swimming. If there had ever been the slightest chance in hell of Finley stopping to smell the stalactites, it was good as gone now; what would be the point of such exertion if not to gauge her loyalty?

This was a test, she concluded. And she would not fail, questions be damned.

As if proving Finley’s read, Donovan commanded her to wait before his dive at what first seemed to be a dead end. Underwater he went, their exit unclear from Finley’s vantage—but supposedly, he found away. He was oddly quiet now, the softest Finley had ever heard his voice—and even so, challenging her to trust him.

She was in no rush to call herself an expert swimmer, but the journey thus far hadn’t been particularly harrowing. And what benefit would Donovan have drowning her here, when she’d done him no wrong but entertain clamped-up doubt? With a deep breath, Finley stepped forward til her head dipped below, and onward she followed.

Sure enough, more blue light took them down a submerged tunnel. This swim seemed longer than the first, and when the ceiling finally gave way Finley rose at the first opportunity. A deep inhale revealed the scent of plants—in a cave? Had they reached open land?

Donovan had surpassed her by a few feet during the swim, his bulky form treading water with ease. Meanwhile, by the time Finley’s paws scraped rock again, she was hoping profusely that their way out wouldn’t involve retracing their steps—er, swim.

Alas they’d reached another cavern, this one illuminated by a cave-in. She regarded the floral sanctuary with little more bravado than she’d afforded the first cave; of greater concern was the drag of her wet fur. After a good full-body shake, Finley regarded Donovan with a dip of her head. Made it.

“These look useful,” she said, a breathy almost-pant betraying her exhaustion. Any moment now she anticipated the return of Donovan’s usual bravado; maybe he could start with their find, and not his superior swimming ability. Finley knew little of herbal remedies beyond the fact of their existence, and she’d have no objection if he cared to brag about his own medical know-how.