a cascade of mud and grit, she splashed into the water. Her head vanished beneath the sludge.
There was an infinite moment where the brown water was perfectly still.
In those seconds that it took for her to fight her way back to the surface, I made up my mind.
I stripped off my jacket, stood at the edge of the sinkhole, and, before I could think of the countless horrific consequences, I went in.
I heard Cole say my name, too late.
I half slid, half fell into the water. My foot touched something slick, and before I had a chance to determine whether it was the bottom of the pit or merely a submerged root, I was swallowed.
The grit of the water stung my eyes for a second before I closed them. In the moment of that blackness, time disappeared, became an arbitrary concept, and then I found my footing and lifted my head above the surface.
“Sam Roth, you bastard,” Cole said. There was admiration in his voice, which probably meant I’d made a poor decision.
The water came just to my collarbone. It was slimy as mucus and bitterly, bitterly cold. I felt like I had no skin, standing in this pit. It was just my bones and this frigid water passing around them.
Grace pressed against the opposite wall, her head against the mud, her expression torn between wariness and something her lupine face couldn’t convey. Now that I knew the depth of the sinkhole, I realized that she must be on her back legs, leaning against the wall to save her strength.
“Grace,” I said, and, at the sound of my voice, her eyes hardened into fear. I tried not to take it personally; wolf instincts took precedence, no matter what humanity I thought I’d seen in them earlier. Still, I had to rethink my plan of trying to lift her toward the edge of the hole. It was hard to concentrate; I was so cold that my goose bumps hurt. Every old instinct I had was telling me to get out of the cold before I shifted.
It was so cold.
Above me, Cole was crouched at the edge of the pit. I could feel his restlessness, hear the unasked question, but I didn’t know how to answer him.
I moved toward her, just to see how she reacted. She jerked back, defensively, and lost her footing. She vanished into the water, and this time, she was gone for the space of several breaths. When she emerged, she tried unsuccessfully to find her previous resting place, but the wall wouldn’t hold her. She paddled feebly, nostrils huffing above the water. We didn’t have much time.
“Should I come down there?” Cole asked.
I shook my head. I was so cold that my words were more breath than voice. “Too — cold. You’ll — shift.”
Near me, the wolf whistled, very quietly, anxious.
Grace, I thought, closing my eyes. Please remember who I am. I opened my eyes.
She was gone. There was just a slow, thick ripple moving toward me from where she’d sank.
I lunged forward, my shoes sinking into the soft floor of the pit, and scooped my arms through the water. Agonizing seconds went by where all I felt was silt on arms, roots on my fingertips. The pool that had seemed small from above now felt vast and depthless.
All I could think was: She’s going to die before I can find her. She’s going to die inches from my fingertips, sucking water into her nose and breathing mud. I will live this moment again and again every day of my life.
Then, finally, my fingers touched something more substantial. I felt the solidness of her wet fur. I wrapped my arms underneath to lift her up and get her head above water.
I needn’t have worried about her snapping. In my arms, she was a limp thing, lightweight with the water buoying her up, pathetic and broken. She was a golem of twigs and mud, cold as a corpse already from her hours in the water. Brown water bubbled from her nostrils.
My arms wouldn’t stop shaking. I leaned my forehead against her muddy cheek; she didn’t flinch. I felt her ribs pressing against my skin. She breathed another sticky, dirty-water breath.
“Grace,” I whispered. “This isn’t how it ends.”
Each of her exhalations was wet and raspy. My mind was a jostle of ideas and plans — if I could get her farther out of the water, if I could keep her warmer, if I could keep her above water until