The horse Barb was riding galloped through the high grasses at an impressive pace. She and Meg weren’t exactly racing. No, they were much too mature to be competing at a time like this. They were just seeing who could reach Crescent Canyon first. That was all.
And Meg could ride.
Barb had ridden with gauchos in Argentina and Native Americans in Montana, and Meg could have kept up with any of them. So apparently being friendly was the one thing Meg Mitchell couldn’t do.
Boring self-righteous cactus, remember? Barb chuckled to herself.
Ahead, the ground started changing texture, less wild grass and cheerful flowers and more dry earth. A small structure almost like a lighthouse sprouted from rich dark soil, built from rock and sandstone.
Meg’s pace increased as she drove her horse for the structure.
It was as good a finish line as any.
Barb nudged her horse forward, and they raced toward the tower.
Meg laughed as Barb caught up with her, the wind in her hair and a grin on her face. It was the happiest expression Barb had seen on the girl since they’d met.
If nothing else, she’d learned Meg Mitchell could smile. Maybe she was human after all.
But Meg still beat her to the tower.
Brat.
Still laughing and windblown, Meg guided her horse around the tower and reined to a halt. Barb pulled up beside her.
“You know how to handle yourself on a horse too,” Meg said.
“There’s a lot of things I know how to do.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.” Meg smiled at her. “Come on. We have to go down into the canyon to get to the other side. There’s no bridge.”
Meg turned her horse and led the way past the tower to a hidden trail that descended into the canyon.
Up close, the tower had a few windows and an open room at the very top where two Josharons stood watch. Meg waved at them as they rode past.
Barb kept her horse close to Meg.
Barb directed her horse around a hole or two, but the horse seemed to know where she was going. The old mare tossed her head and neighed at Meg’s horse, which shrilled in response.
“Is there a village near here?” Barb asked.
Meg glanced over her shoulder at her with another smile. “That’s the watchtower for Atama Village.”
“Okay. So where is the village?”
Meg didn’t answer and nudged her horse down the trail. Barb followed and started to ask again when they rounded a corner of beige rock, and she lost what she was going to say.
The village was carved into the face of the canyon wall, like the cave dwellings of the Anasazi in southwestern Colorado. Under a protective shelf of thick stone, an entire village of apartments and homes had been hewn into the rock face. Josharons bustled from home to home, all colorfully dressed and busy doing whatever talking fox-people did.
“Wow,” Barb whispered.
“Atama Village is beautiful,” Meg said. “It’s one of the first Josharon settlements in Rainbow Valley. It’s thousands of years old.” Meg directed them around a thorny bush growing on the path. “Some think it’s older than Prism Castle.”
“How is that possible?”
Meg shrugged. “There’s a chance Josharons lived here while the Eldaraans built Prism Castle, but there are no records to prove that.”
“Eldaraans?”
Meg hesitated. “Yes, that’s what Velanna calls them.” She pulled up on her reins so Barb could ride next to her. “She doesn’t know much about them, but they are the ones with the cuneiform language. They built Prism Castle. There’s also an underground train system that spans much of the valley. They built that too.”
Barb frowned. “So they were technologically advanced.”
“Very.”
“And they built a castle here that looks like an unfinished castle in my world.”
“You said that before? What was it called?”
“Neuschwanstein.” Barb gathered the reins in her hands as her horse tossed her head. “In Bavaria. It could be a carbon copy, except your castle is built on a plain with a moat. Neuschwanstein is built on a mountainside.”
“I bet that’s a sight to see.”
They fell into a comfortable silence as they reached the canyon floor. Meg led the way to a sturdy sandstone bridge that crossed the white-capped river twisting through the canyon. On the other side of the bridge, Meg stopped and dismounted.
“We should let the horses drink while we can.” Meg took her horses reins and led them to a calm place at the edge of the water.
Her horse drank greedily, slurping loud enough to echo on the canyon walls. Barb dismounted and led her old mare to the water to drink.
She joined Meg further down and stretched her arms over her head, feeling the release of tight muscles and joints that weren’t used to horseback riding.
“How is your knee?” Meg bent at the waist and touched the toes of her boots.
“Hurts.”
“Do you need something for the pain?”
“I’ll live.”
Meg smiled up at her. “I shouldn’t admit this.” She shook her head.
“You’re starting to like me, right?” Barb smirked. “Go ahead. I’m a likeable person.”
Meg straightened out and bowed her back to work the muscles. “Maybe I was going to say I was planning to leave you in the forest.”
“You’d better break my legs first.”
“Or you’d hunt me down?”
“Hey, we are getting to know each other.”
Still grinning, Meg pressed her hands into her lower back. “Yes. I am beginning to like you. It’s inconvenient.”
“I know the feeling.”
Barb chewed on her lower lip and watched the water swirling in the river. She hadn’t told Meg about the journal yet. In fact, it was still wrapped up in her old clothing in Meg’s bedroom.
“I enjoyed looking at all your cactuses,” Barb said.
Meg blinked at her. “You what?”
Barb faced her. “Your cactuses. In your bedroom.”
Meg flushed. “Oh, yes. Well.” She laced her fingers together in front of herself. “They’re honestly the only plant I can keep alive. I even kill orchids.”
“Black thumb, huh?”
Meg scowled. “No.” She spread her fingers apart. “My thumbs are normal colors.”
Barb rolled her eyes. “If we’re going to be friends, we need to update your idiom so I don’t have to keep explaining stuff.”
Meg went rigid beside her, her eyes widening a bit.
“Friends?” Meg asked.
Barb swallowed a sigh. She had said that out loud, hadn’t she? Had she meant it? Did she want to be friends with Meg Mitchell? She wanted to turn Meg Mitchell in for the notoriety of solving a case Phoenix Munroe couldn’t crack, didn’t she? That wasn’t exactly a great basis for the start of a friendship.
But, being honest, one-upping Phoenix had started to lose it’s attractiveness. It had been a long time since Barb had met anyone who could match her in physical ability. Or who could even attempt to spar with her verbally for that matter.
Meg regarded her in silence, eyes wide and loose strands of golden hair curling around her heart-shaped face.
She was a boring, self-righteous human cactus with no sense of humor and a chip on her shoulder the size of the iceberg that sank the Titanic. But she had been honest from the start. She’d been nothing but authentic. And that was something Barb hadn’t found very often.
So, yes, she did want to be friends with Meg Mitchell.
It had been a long time since she’d had a friend.
“Yeah.” Barb nodded. “Friends.”
Meg kept staring at her. Long enough for it to become uncomfortable.
“I’ve never had a friend,” Meg said under her breath. “Not really. How—do you be a friend?”
Barb tilted her head. “What do you mean? You’re friends with all these fox people. You’re friends with Tzaitel, right?”
“Tzaitel is my sister.” Meg shrugged. “It’s different. Would you say Jim is your friend?”
“Fair point.”
Yes, Jim was her friend. He was her confidant and closest ally. She would trust him with her life, and she’d do anything for him. She’d take a bullet for him. But there were some things she couldn’t share with him, some perspectives she kept from him. He didn’t need to know everything that happened in her heart.
He wouldn’t understand. But a friend would.
“I guess,” Barb started, “I don’t know how to be a friend. It’s been a long time since I’ve had one.”
Meg snickered. “Well, you know more about it than I do.”
Barb laughed. “I can tell you that you’ll have to stop acting like a human cactus.”
Meg flushed. “I don’t act like that.”
“You totally do.” Barb grinned at her. “You’re all prickly and get super snappy when anyone you don’t know gets close.”
“That’s—just—healthy boundaries.”
Barb snorted. “Just keep telling yourself that.”
Meg chuckled and laced her fingers together. “Jenny tells me I’m like a cactus too. I don’t mean to be. It’s just easier sometimes.”
“I understand that.” Barb picked up a small stick and stripped the dry leaves off it. “Asking for help isn’t my forte either.”
Meg mad a face. “There are usually strings attached.”
Barb started to respond, but she froze at the sound of a bush rattling and rustling behind them. Meg did the same, hand dropping to her belt.
The pine-like shrubs at the base of the canyon wall shifted and shook, and a raccoon climbed out of them, its dark eyes watching them as it crawled out of view.
Meg sighed in relief.
“Wow.” Barb caught her breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready to shoot a raccoon.”
Meg smiled at her. “Come on. Let’s get moving.” She gathered her horses reins and mounted with the grace of a dancer.
Barb followed her lead up the side of the canyon trail until they reached the top. Meg sat back in her saddle and pointed over the land around them.
“There are a few more Josharon villages scattered around,” she said. “A small lake marks the southern boundary of Rainbow Valley, and beyond that is part of the Dark Forest. Beyond the Dark Forest is the badlands that lead to Centaur Mount.”
“You really are serious about the whole Centaur thing, aren’t you?”
Meg looked grim. “I hope you won’t have to find out.” She shook herself. “Velanna’s readings are coming from the Dark Forest beyond the lake and its tributary. It’s not much farther.”
Barb gathered her reins. “Lead the way. I’m on your six.”
Meg glanced at her. “Is this more friend idiom?”
Barb grinned. “I’ve got your back.”
Meg stared in response, blankly for a moment. “You’ve got my back,” she repeated, before her face broke into a sunrise. In that moment she looked exactly like her little sister. “Thank you.”
A hollow pain clenched in Barb’s stomach. A response like that from a simple declaration of friendship? Had Meg really never had a real friend? An equal? Someone she could share her deepest self with?
Well, how could she have? If she’d been obsessed with protecting her brother and sister all her life, she wouldn’t have relied on them. From what Barb had seen of Velanna Ittai, that woman didn’t have any friends either, and she had probably raised Meg to believe friends were a weakness.
Tzaitel seemed all right, but wasn’t she like 150 years old? Meg couldn’t be friends with someone that age.
Tolan was kind, but he would have to take Velanna’s side. Husbands were sort of required to do that most times.
Maybe some of the Josharons could be friends, but in the end they didn’t have much in common.
For as many people as she had in her life, Meg Mitchell really was alone. No wonder she was prickly.
“You—you’re welcome,” Barb said softly.
Meg kneed her horse into a trot and led the way toward the dark patch of forest looming ahead of them. The horses broke through the untraveled paths buried in tall grass, approaching the sound of rushing water.
The wind smelled different here.
Further north, nearer the castle, the air smelled green and fresh. Almost sweet. Something between clean dew and vibrant grasses. Like breathing it cleaned your lungs out.
As they approached the ominous patch of forest, a bitter wind carried the scent of ash and sulfur. Now that they were closer, Barb could get a better view of the solitary peak jutting into the sky far to the south. The top of the peak simmered with heat, a vivid fluorescent orange against the blue sky.
“That really is a volcano, isn’t it?” Barb said.
“Centaur Mount,” Meg said. “It’s where they all live.”
“Why do they live in a volcano? That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”
“Nobody ever said they were bright.”
They rode in silence until they reached a small river with a stone bridge. Meg led them across and into the dark, musty forest on the other side.
The air changed the instant they rode into the forest.
It felt like breathing cobwebs.
The old trees creaked and groaned around them, huge branches spreading overhead in a canopy that blocked out the sun. Gnarled trunks with twisted bark made faces in the shadows. The temperature dropped enough to raise gooseflesh on Barb’s arms.
“Okay, so this is scary beyond all reason,” she muttered.
Meg nodded. “I know. Velanna used to tell us that the trees remember. And these trees have seen some scary things.”
Meg didn’t elaborate, and Barb wasn’t sure she wanted her to.
They rode through the dark, groaning forest without speaking. Saying anything in the eerie silence seemed like a bad idea, as though it would reveal their position and leave them vulnerable to attack.
I’ve never been superstitious in my life. She eyed a particularly tormented looking pine. But I would swear someone is watching us, and since there’s nobody here it has to be the trees.
Meg pulled her horse to a stop and raised her hand. Barb rode up behind her.
Meg tapped her lips with her finger and slid out of her saddle, hand on the energy saber at her belt. Barb followed, shotgun in hand. They crept across the soft, loamy dirt to a patch of shrubs. A small clearing beyond it had a fire pit that was still smoking.
They waited in silence until Meg stood, apparently satisfied that the camping area had been emptied.
“It’s clear.” She climbed out of the bushes and approached the fire pit. She knelt down and felt the rocks. “But it’s recent. They made camp here.”
“Who?” Barb stood next to her.
Meg pointed to the dirt where Barb could see hoof prints clearly. But of course there were hoof prints near a camp site. But—these didn’t look right. Unless the people camping let their horses run loose through the camping area. And—no other prints. Just hoof prints.
Oh.
“Centaurs.” Barb shook her head. “That—this is wild, Meg. It’s—give me a moment.”
Meg nodded and stood. “This is too close to the boundary of the river. They shouldn’t be camping here. The only reason they would be is if they were hunting.”
“Maybe that’s what they’re doing?”
Meg pointed to a few of the trees in the area. “If this were a hunting party, they would have stretched out skins or there would be some indication that they were cleaning kills.”
“So it’s not a hunting party.”
“Not for food.”
Barb sighed. “Do you think—” Motion in the bushes behind Meg silenced her. She snapped the shotgun to her shoulder, but she wasn’t fast enough.
A giant blue-and-black-skinned blur burst out of the shadows and hit them both like a freight train. She hit on her injured shoulder and rolled into a tree trunk, the shotgun scattering away. Fiery pain jolted through her ribs.
It was another one of those creatures. The monsters that had attacked Palayta Village.
Dazed and blurry, Barb shook herself and clambered to her knees, seizing the shotgun from where it had fallen.
Where was the monster?
Where was Meg?
Her vision cleared, and she could see Meg pinned beneath the monster at the center of the campsite. Meg had a charred piece of wood from the campfire she was stabbing the underbelly of the monster with, but it wasn’t stopping. It had her in one of its claws, pinned to the dirt, and it was snapping at her face with its horrible tooth-filled mouth.
I can’t shoot it. Not with her under it.
Not that the shotgun would have done any harm anyway.
What did she do? What could she do?
A metallic glint caught her eye. Something long and cylindrical lay on the ground.
Meg’s saber. What had she called it? Bijali katar? It was the only weapon that seemed capable of hurting the monsters. But how did it work?
Meg cried out in pain.
No time for a tutorial.
Barb dropped the shotgun and scooped up the hilt of the energy saber. She pointed it away from herself and pressed the button on the side. The hilt trembled and vibrated in her hand, buzzing like the base of a weed whacker until her fingers felt nearly numb, and the colorless energy blade burst out of the end in a blast of blinding light.
Wow.
Barb let the shifting patterns of light and electricity in the blade distract her for just a moment. For something that could probably slice through solid steel like melted butter, it was utterly beautiful.
Meg screamed.
Oh.
Right.
Jedi time.
Barb clutched the hilt. It hadn’t stopped buzzing. Was that normal? Hopefully she wouldn’t kill Meg or herself when she killed the creature.
She charged with a scream of effort and swung the saber. It sliced the back of the beast open as easily as a sharp knife on a piece of fruit.
The creature flailed and shrieked and released Meg, whirling on Barb and charging at her.
Great. Now what?
Barb swung the saber again, grasping for any swordsmanship class she’d taken at Peregrine Academy. But every time she tried to swing or lunge with the saber, the form fell apart. The buzzing of the hilt and the lack of weight in the blade threw her balance off.
How did Meg fight with this thing?
She hit the creature a few more times, but it drove her backward to where she had dropped the shotgun. She stabbed the creature in the face and released the hilt while it thrashed in agony.
The switch was apparently a dead man’s switch because the energy blade vanished the instant she released the hilt. She snatched up the shotgun and got off two rounds into the creature, which did nothing but anger it.
But Meg was on her feet again.
The golden-haired teenager charged at the creature, dropped and rolled, grabbing the saber from the grass as she did and igniting it as she jumped to her feet.
She drove the blade through the creature’s head all the way. Then ripped it out and swung, taking the beast’s head clean off. Its body collapsed in a heap.
Barb lowered the shotgun, gasping for breath.
Meg deactivated her saber and tucked the hilt back on her belt, and Barb eyed the blood running down her arm.
“It get you?”
Meg glanced at her. “No, I just walk around with the skin on my shoulder ripped off. It’s a choice.”
Barb rolled her eyes and took Meg’s other arm, leading her to a rock on the edge of the campsite. “Sit down.”
For once, Meg didn’t argue.
One of the horse’s saddle bags had a medical kit in it, but at the moment the horses were nowhere to be seen. They must have run off.
Cowards.
“How bad will your sister kill me if I rip up her blouse?” Barb pulled on the green tunic of Tzaitel’s she was wearing.
“We can just tell her the monster did it.”
“I like how you think.” Barb pulled a knife out of her pants pocket and started cutting the bottom of the tunic.
Meg clutched the bleeding wound on her shoulder. “How did you learn to fight with an energy saber?”
Barb scoffed. “I didn’t. I could barely swing that thing.”
“But you hurt the monster.”
“I nicked it. You killed it.” Barb peeled the torn edges of Meg’s blouse back to examine her shoulder. “It got you good. Claws?”
“I think it was its beastly personality. He made some cutting remarks.”
Barb groaned. “You did not just say that.”
Meg giggled and hissed as Barb applied pressure to the wound.
“We can’t be friends if that’s your sense of humor.” Barb shook her head. “Why can’t I want to be friends with normal people?”
“Normal people wouldn’t know what to do with you.” Meg smiled.
“You’re probably right.” Barb chuckled. “Hold still. I’ll bind this up and track down the horses. You need stitches.”
“And here I thought this would be a terrible day.”
Barb tied the strip of blouse as tightly as she could across the wound and grabbed the shotgun. “Wait there. I’ll be right back.” She turned toward the river and stopped.
On the ground, embedded in the soft loam of the forest, were a trail of footprints. Human footprints. With several sets of hoof prints in obvious pursuit.
“What?” Meg called after her.
Barb grunted and shouldered the shotgun. “I think I found Dr. Fallen’s tracks.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Barb glanced back at her. “I think he’s being tracked by your pack of Centaurs.”
Meg gripped her shoulder and grimaced. “They can’t get him. They’ll kill him.”
“Why would they kill him?”
“That’s what Centaurs do, Barb.” Meg hissed and started to stand up.
Barb turned back to her and pushed her down again. “No. If you keep going without stitches, you’re going to bleed out. Not to mention that we don’t know what sort of gross stuff is in those monster’s claws.”
“You should go on without me.” Meg’s vision fixed on the mountain peak stabbing the sky ahead of them.
“Well that’s not going to happen.” Barb patted her good shoulder. “Stay there. I’ll be back with the horses and the stitches, and we’ll go on together.”
Barb made it two steps.
“Barb?”
She glanced back.
“Thank you.” Meg met her eyes. “You saved my life.”
Barb smiled back. “Well, that’s what friends do, isn’t it?”
Meg’s smile felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds. “Yeah. It is.”
Barb nodded and hurried ahead to where she could hear the horses crashing around in the undergrowth.
As if they didn’t have enough to worry about, now they had to rescue Dr. Fallen from Centaurs?
Oh, well. At least she got a friend out of the deal. Barb ran through the forest, and the horses startled when they saw her. But they didn’t run. They came to her the moment they realized it was her, and she grabbed their reins.
“You guys were no help at all.”
The horses nickered at her, and she led them back to the camp site. As she came closer she realized that Meg had called down the falcon that had been following them in the clouds. She was scribbling a note with her good arm, and she looked up as soon as Barb reached her.
“Could you tuck this into the message pouch on the bird’s foot?” Meg handed it to her. “It’s an update to the others.”
“You need to sort out your priorities, Meg.” Barb shook her head but did as she had asked.
Meg whistled to the bird, and it launched into the sky with a flurry of reddish brown wings and a screech that shook the air.
“Now, off with the shirt.” Barb grabbed the medical kit from her horse’s saddle bag. “Let’s get you stitched up.”
“And then we’ll go hunting.” Meg nodded. “Hunting for Centaurs.”
Barb chuckled as she started cleaning the wound on Meg’s shoulder, a long gash full of dirt. Of all the things she’d expected to be doing today, going on a Centaur hunt in an alien forest hadn’t even ranked in the top hundred.
But that just meant it was probably going to be fun.

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