she neared the archway, but the sun shone brighter as she neared the end of the narrow channel.
Treading water just inside the cave, Moira took in the sweeping vista of open water and perilous cliffs. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and in turn, her stomach dropped to her feet. There was nowhere to go but open sea. The sheer cliffside offered no means to escape, and she dreaded trying to swim against the tide to move back around the jetty. She doubted she had the strength for that swim. She’d barely survived the first time. Turning back toward the far wall, Moira once more swam into the depths of the cave. Feeling the change of current, Moira reached out for the narrow tunnel. Raising her arm again, she found her fingers couldn’t touch the top of the archway. She knew she would have room to draw a breath when she needed it.
It’s now or I remain here until I die. With the way things are—no food, no fresh water, sopping wet—that won’t be long. Worse comes to worst, I come back here and brave the open water. How badly do I want to live? How badly do I want to see Kyle? You know the answer to that, Moira. Move yourself.
Moira eased her way into the darkness. The tunnel echoed, making it difficult to predict where it led. Kicking with little force, Moira swam further into the recesses of the cavern wall. Every few minutes, a lapping wave pushed against her, jostling her against the wall but not impeding her progress. As the strength of the waves grew, she knew she must be nearing the opening on the far side. But her hands brushing against a wall forced Moira to stop. She looked around, but there was no light coming from in front of her. She felt the water pushing up from beneath her, and she bit back a groan. The way out was submerged. The best she could hope for was to hold her breath long enough to find the opening. The water would try to force her back into the cave. If she could just spot daylight, she would have the hope that she could find her means of escape.
Remembering what Cormac, one of the clan council elders, taught her as a child when she and his sons learned to swim, she took several slow, deep breaths, holding each one a little longer than the last. She conditioned her lungs for when she would dive into the abyss and pray that she came out the other side. Reaching below the water, she pulled off one boot then the other, instantly feeling pounds lighter. She wasn’t ready to forsake the footwear, knowing she would need them on land. Fumbling in the darkness, she tied them together and slung them around her neck. On her fifth inhalation, she dove below the surface, kicking as hard and fast as she could. Eyes open but unseeing, her hands guided her as she found another opening barely wide enough for her to pass through. Never had she been so glad to be built more like a lass than a lady. Her lungs burned as she kept kicking, her hands pushing along the walls, helping her to glide through.
She desperately wanted to breathe, her body railing against her mind. But she reasoned that she was no fish; breathing water wouldn’t work. Her ears rang from the pressure, and the instinct to panic and flail threatened her. She reached above her, testing to see if there was space between the water level and the ceiling of the tunnel. She knew there wasn’t, but her mind demanded she try. Blinking several times to clear her mind, she continued forward. She could only keep moving forward. She’d gone too far to turn back and make it to the surface before she ran out of air. She fought the dizziness that set in as air bubbles formed around her mouth. She was slowly losing the air she held in her mouth and lungs. Her head felt as though it were in a vice, and pinpricks of light danced before her eyes.
I’m dying. This is where I will die. No one will ever know. No one will ever find me.
Moira wanted to sob, but there was no way to do it while submerged in her watery grave. As she used the dregs of her energy to keep moving forward, she realized the darts of light she saw weren’t