“Come on, you old block,” I muttered.
A snarl tore through the trees. Duke’s muscles tightened between my legs, just a second of warning before he bucked and bolted down the path. I grabbed a fistful of mane, just trying to stay on as leaves and branches slapped against my face.
I gasped as he suddenly lurched off the trail onto a narrow path. I leaned in closer, almost hugging his neck. Thin branches tore at my hair. I kept my eyes squinted to focus. A single low branch could throw me from his back.
The trail turned sharply into a valley. Each bounce nearly sent me flying. I gripped Duke’s sides with my ankles, tugging on the reins. But it was useless. He slowed only when we reached the bottom of the valley. His gallop gave way to a trot, and then the trot to a walk. I looked around helplessly.
We were totally lost.
A crash or rustle would sound behind us every few minutes, but when I turned there was nothing. My heart raced.
Another crash, closer.
My throat closed up. All I could think of were Alice’s feet dripping with blood. The three claws reaching through my window. The wet footprints on the porch. I squeezed my eyes shut, counting to five. Duke picked his way through the maze of trees, effortlessly. When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to find how dark the jungle had gotten. Dusk was falling quickly.
Ahead, something glinted through the trees, so brightly it burned white spots in my eyes. As we rode closer, I realized it was the reflection of the fading sun on a tin roof. My hands tightened on the reins. The roof was patchy, only a few shiny surfaces left.
Jaguar’s cabin.
Duke stopped at the edge of the clearing. I studied the quiet cabin, wondering what I’d find inside. Maybe a feral jaguar, ready to slash at whatever warm, breathing thing came through the door. I climbed off Duke and tied him to a post with a quick knot. I scrambled onto the wooden porch, feeling the same fear in my throat as I’d felt the first time. The three-toed tracks had long ago disappeared, but they lingered in my memory.
I peered in the glass window, but it was dark inside. I unlatched the door before I lost my nerve. The door gave an inch but stopped, either locked or stuck. I pushed my weight against the door, then harder, and harder again, until it suddenly gave. I fell into Jaguar’s cabin.
Shaken, I stumbled to my feet. It seemed as vacant and abandoned as before—even the flower was gone from the mantel. I brushed aside dead leaves with my boot and found shattered pieces of the glass vase. I ran back to the window to make sure Duke was still there, needing the reassurance.
He grazed calmly in the fading light in the front yard. I let out a deep breath and rested my forehead against the cool windowpane. I wasn’t sure if I felt an urge to laugh or to cry.
Duke suddenly jerked his head up. Loose grass fell from his mouth. He seemed to stare straight at me, ears twitching, though I knew it was too dark to see into the cabin. An uneasy feeling stirred in my belly. I felt trapped. An overwhelming urge to get out of the cabin pulled at my gut. Maybe it was the pieces of deer inside me, the animal instinct, sensing a predator was near.
I flung open the door.
Montgomery stood in the doorway, his shirt torn, his hair loose.
“Juliet?” he started, but I grabbed his shirt in my fists. I touched his face, his chest, his hair, to make sure he was real.
“You’re here,” I said. “You’re alive.”
“What are you doing here?”
I buried my face in his chest. My breath came ragged. He was alive. We were going to get off the island, all of us, in one piece. I started shaking. He wrapped an arm around my back.
“Try to calm down,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right. Here, sit down.” He led me to the dingy bed. “What are you doing here?” he asked again. “It’s dangerous. I told you never to return to the jungle.”
“I had to find you. Where’s Jaguar? Are you all right? What happened on the beach?”
He pushed his hair back. There was a fresh cut on his arm, but it no longer bled. He started to answer, but I jumped up.
A figure filled the doorway.
“Jaguar,” I said. I slid my hand into my pocket. Found the shape of the shears.
He paused in the doorway, his slitted cat eyes shifting between us. He walked upright, but only barely. His clothes were gone. Fine golden hair covered his body like a thick mane. He’d regressed, but not as much as the others. I pulled the shears out of my pocket, but Montgomery pushed them back in.
“We can trust him.”
Trust him? Jaguar slipped in but hovered around the outer edges of the room. He moved more gracefully than ever, as though he might drop to four legs at any moment and slink closer. His long claws clicked on the wooden floorboards. He could slice our throats in a single swipe, and I was supposed to trust him?