Rock walls hemmed the river tightly, forcing the water into a narrow channel. The cliffs cut off the light; a band of purple- and pink-stained sky showed above, but the river itself was dipped in murky twilight. We'd long since left the gravel bank behind, and Kit hadn't reacted with more than a smile when I'd fluttered up, trying to show that we should get off the river.
'Communicating as a butterfly is awful. But it's okay — we haven't reached the washout, and she knows to watch for it.' A chunk of the cliff face had collapsed into the river, giving a path for spring floods to join the more permanent watercourse. Boulders, jagged and rough, blocked at least half the river there — more if the water was down, as it would be before the rains started — and it marked my usual campsite along this stretch.
Kit hadn't exhibited any issues steering around rocks so far. Her double-ended paddle shunted the kayak clear of each obstacle as we approached it.
'But she has to stop for the washout.' I flapped my wings, a slow open and close that obscured the anxiety thrumming through my delicate form.
'And why am I on the river as a butterfly, anyway? This is insane!' A water droplet bigger than my head smashed into the kayak; the rebounding splatter danced over my wings. 'I should — I need to shift. Something bigger. I can fly above this dumb boat.'
The hollow, exhausted ache left by the fever hadn't faded, though. Kit's boost — the strange energy-ball she'd offered — hadn't filled the void; it just bandaged over the cavity. And despite the fortnights I'd spent as an owl — my preferred form, especially in the bitter heart of winter — it was easier, cost less energy, to maintain the butterfly shift. So I tamped down my disquiet and fanned my wings again.
"I think you've got the hang of it." Kit's voice carried lightly over the river's muted rumble.
'Got the hang of what?' I shifted, one foot after the other, until I could see Kit with one multifaceted eye. My wings caught the wind more in this position, and I fluttered into the air. I danced clumsily, unused to the timid flight my smallest form necessitated, and the kayak slipped downriver faster than my wings carried me. A broad surface brushed my feet, and I latched on, sinking tiny claws into the brim of Kit's hat.
"Or not." The kayak slowed, the paddle ceased dipping into the water, and a dripping end swung close. "Hop on."
I extended my proboscis, sampling the water on the surface, before stepping onto the paddle. It swung forward, placing me within an easy flight of the kayak's bow. Once I was re-situated, facing downstream with my wings knife-edge to the wind, the paddle dipped into the water once more, propelling us faster than the current.
"It's okay. Just stay there and we'll be past the rapids quickity-quick."
'Wait — what?' I fanned my wings, not quite taking off. 'The rapids are past the washout. I know I told her to stop!' Frustration lanced through me. I couldn't make Kit get off the river at the washout. I couldn't keep her from going on in the dark. In this form, I couldn't even remind her of the plan.
A massive chunk of rock, smack in the middle of the river, split the water's flow, and Kit diverted around it to the right. The kayak dipped low, then rose, jostling over unseen obstacles, and picked up speed. The current twisted, sending the craft sideways, and water washed over the bow.
'No no no!' I clung, all six feet latched to the kayak's oddly smooth surface, and clamped my wings tight in distress. We slammed into another rock, hitting it broadside, and the force spun me halfway around on the increasingly slippery kayak. Too slowly, realization dawned — much as the impact spun me, it also spun the boat, and when Kit shoved off, I was at the rear, watching Kit's grin while the kayak floated backward.
'Bones and feathers!' While I re-set my feet, a familiar overhang and jagged washout swept past.
"Hold on!" Kit laughed — laughed! — and shoved off a half-sunken rock, sending the kayak crashing against another boulder with a horrific scraping sound. We pivoted around it, propelled by Kit's paddle and the current, and when we popped free, we were at least pointed in the right direction. The boat continued careening downriver, glancing off rocks and dipping up and down. Water washed over the bow repeatedly, but I managed — somehow — to remain more or less in place.
Then Kit paddled backward, slowing our progress and keeping us in a calmer eddy. Fanning my wings in a vain attempt to dry them, I peered downstream. But while Kit had been playing with the water and rocks, full night had fallen, and only the thin sliver of moon peeking over the cliffs illuminated the white-frosted water.
'Bones! We're at the start of the falls!' I fluttered, spinning around to face Kit, in a desperate attempt to convince her we needed — somehow — to go back.
"Looks a bit rough." Kit set the paddle down, tightened the strap that kept her hat on, and snatched the paddle back. "Did you want to ride on my hat instead?"
'No, I don't want to ride on your stupid hat!' I flew up, smacking my wings as hard as I could against her face. 'We have to go back!'
"That tickles!" Kit's breath puffed me away from her face. "Settle down wherever you like. We need to get started while the moon's still bright." She peered up at it, squinting her eyes.
'She's doing this.' I flitted forward and back above the kayak. 'The boat — it's too slippery. I won't be able to hold on when it gets rougher.' Reluctantly, I settled on the hat's brim, and my tiny claws sank into the woven fibers.
"Here we go!" Kit's laughter rang through the air, and she sent the kayak darting toward a patch of smoother water between a boulder and a snag of driftwood. Three strokes with the paddle had us through the gap and weaving among the stones beyond. The boat scraped across something hard underwater, hanging up and tipping sideways. Before I could panic, Kit shifted, rocking her hips and thrusting with the paddle, and we broke free, only to strike another rock on the side. Kit hummed, the vibration strong enough to roll through the hat into my feet, and shoved off, launching the kayak over the edge of the first fall.
If I wore any other form, I'd have screamed. If I'd been flightless, I'd have covered my eyes. As a butterfly, neither was an option, and I clutched Kit's hat as we launched, not quite into the air, but skimming the water as gravity pulled us down. The bow plunged into the pool below, the force splashing water over me and thrusting us backward as that the rear of the boat was caught under the pummelling flow.
Kit flicked the paddle, sending us downstream into another series of rocks, and I fought for calm.
'Okay, that was the first fall — only about a wingspan drop. The next two should be about the same height... I think. Maybe we can do this?' Fluttering my wings, I retraced the falls as I'd seen them in previous years. 'The one after's a little bigger, with that island in the middle, and after that, there's just the babies — just a bunch of little cascades to the pool at the cliff's base.'
My wings stilled. The small cascades were on the left — the side that had the descent I used to reach the plains. On the other side, the edge of the cliff didn't fall away in steps. That side I'd only seen from the air and marveled at the stunning, fifty wingspan drop cloaked in mist and rainbows in the morning light. And if you didn't hit the left side of the jagged island in the fall before, there wasn't any way to get to the safer route.
'She doesn't know.' I barely felt the next fall as we went over, and I shook off the resulting splash. 'She's not staying to one side of the river — she's weaving through the rocks and I can't tell where she'll go!'
I scrabbled forward, fighting the wind and water, to dangle over the left edge of Kit's hat.
"Hey!" We slammed into a rock, and the kayak tipped half-underwater. "I can't see, and you'll fall off." A careful hand brushed me back, then the paddle sent us straight over the next fall. We splashed down with more force, and I nearly lost my grip. "Hold tight!"
The island loomed ahead — a jagged upthrust of dark rock three-wingspan tall bisecting the river. I hadn't seen any place along it that would allow access without climbing. In the moonlight, the left side was a white roil masking rocks and snags. The right side gleamed in placid mimicry of the moon above; a thin satin ribbon disrupted only by a few ripples. I watched a twig reach that smoothness and shoot downstream, gaining speed and rapidly out of sight.
"This isn't on the map," Kit muttered. She slowed, but couldn't stop entirely as she had before; there wasn't a calm space within the rocks. "I mean, it looks faster. And you'd prefer not to get wet again, right?"
I launched again, battering at the right side of her face and trying to force her to look to the left.
"You're right. That looks better." She dipped the paddle, propelling us toward the right.
'No!' In a flash of clarity, I assessed my options. Kit was going to go over the deadly falls, and she'd take my trading supplies with her. But I had wings — albeit small ones — and didn't have to go with her. 'What do I owe her, really?'
I fluttered up, landing on the hat again, as Kit maneuvered around the last pair of rocks between her and the right branch.
'I — I —' My stomach pitched. For years, I'd been hyper-focused on me — my survival, my needs. No one would do it for me, and there wasn't anyone counting on me. 'I can't. I can't let this stranger matter!'
I tensed, ready to spring clear and cut my losses.
'Maybe I can collect the pack downstream?'
We cleared the last rock and Kit dug in the paddle.
I slammed a bubble shield over the river's lethal branch, blocking it entirely. The water flow immediately backed up in a chaotic wash.
"Hey!"
Nearly capsized, Kit adjusted, trying to balance the craft as we rolled with the wave that diverted us down the safer side. When Kit righted the kayak, the bow pointed back toward the shield, and we were backward again. I didn't care. Shaking, I dropped the shield and clung with everything I had to stay on Kit's hat while darkness threatened to blot out the moon.
"Oh, dear." We crashed into a rock, scraped free, and tangled in a snag. Water swept over us and I finally realized that the ridiculous skirt Kit wore, which she'd lashed tight to the kayak, was the only thing keeping water out of the boat. I prayed it held. Kit fought free of the snag, striking another rock and glancing off.
Then we went over the falls, tipping sideways into the darkness.