II

The mercenaries had been reckless, stupid; all the sailors had silently cursed them and prayed to all of the gods, just in case, to save them. If Fortune was fair, the Napoli would have been heading the other way, full speed away from the raging volcano. But Fortune had never had any judgement, and so Napoli was carrying these reckless, stupid mercenaries who held a knife to the throat of the captain's daughter and told him to keep going. One sailor who had complained aloud was now with the ship's surgeon, a knife-wound between his ribs. Toren supposed either Fortune or the gods were looking out for the man, because by rights he should be dead.

Now there was respite. In terror, Toren had watched with the others as the fire had screamed through the top of the mountain, as rivers of lava - almost white in their heat - had streamed down. But the worst fell on the inland side, and all the ship received was a dusting of ash. They had coughed, then laughed and cheered and congratulated one another, and even Toren had burly arms of well-meaning sailors crushing out his breath.

Now they could get rid of the mercenaries with polite but definite haste, and go back to their fishing. All were happy, except for the captain: out of the crew perhaps only Toren noticed, but the captain's daughter was still nowhere to be seen.

I

There had been more than a few anxious moments in the last few days. The men had eyed the spreading soot cloud on the horizon and piled on sail, even though the wind had been average to poor. The nets had lain more or less abandoned, and Toren had gathered more than the usual number of curses and backhanders.

But today it was as if the ship's timbers themselves had let out a sigh of relief. The worst was over.

XIV

She began to smell salt in the air. The stream of animals had become a trickle; they all ran faster than her, even the littlest mice, because by now she was running at a walking pace.

Then her shoe landed in liquid that splashed onto her leg. She bent down to find Samson gorging on water in remarkably efficient manner. If he was drinking, then it was clean. Tsvetka fell to her knees to scoop water to her mouth; its taste made her feel she could never get enough, never want anything else. Samson sat down to gaze at her, having had enough. He was no longer in such a hurry. That was good, right?

At last, she stood up, her face now gloriously cool. They went on, and the cheetah let her walk. The salt smell reminded her of something... brine... sea... the sea? She started running again - the darkness thinned - and thinned even more - thunder, no, waves on sand. And suddenly she was in daylight, and the sun was half-way up the sky... and her feet were in sand, and before her was the grey ocean.

XIII

Although exertion and a nasty edge of fear made Tsvetka's face burn with heat, the floor of the tunnel remained curiously cool, and ever so slightly damp. Every now and again she felt something soft and suspiciously moss-like beneath the toes of her bare foot.

Samson wasn't far ahead of her. His tail flicked once in a while in the gentlest reminder of his frustration at her slow pace, but otherwise he didn't seem terribly distressed. Once in a while he paused to allowed her to catch up with him, and passed the time by studying the dark shapes which scurried past them in a steady stream with mild curiosity.

On one such occasion, blinded by sweat and soot, Tsvetka tripped and almost fell headlong over her waiting companion. Samson chirped a warning, and she threw out her mobile arm to steady herself against the nearest wall. She found that it was warm, but not burning hot. The surface was smooth, and carved into strange contours reminiscent of nothing more than the patterns left by waves on an undisturbed beach. 

It seemed to Tsvetka that the tunnel would have no end. Through the blur of her exhaustion, she seemed to notice a slight downhill gradient to their path, but could not find the energy to speculate about their eventual destination, if such a destination existed.

XII

'Samson!' she screamed. The little feline had been trotting along one second, and had vanished. His face with its tear-streaks appeared again, his fangs slightly bared to hurry her footsteps. He had found a tunnel, its opening well wide enough to admit at least two six-foot men. This was what he'd been leading her to?

But she followed him as he scampered into the darkness. A glance behind her filled her terrified vision with the fiery glow of the volcano's peak. Anything was better than waiting for that. The tunnel was straight, the walls slimy when she touched them. She became aware of the pattering of of hundreds of little feet, and she shrieked as something scampered over her bare foot. A rat. A rat?

Then the earth shifted violently. She fell heavily on her good arm and felt the skin scrape off her knuckles. The noise she'd been dreading propelled her to her feet, and into a faster run, and she heard the other animals pick up their pace too. The volcano had released its pent up anger. She couldn't outrun lava. The mountain exploded again, muffled through the metres of stone above her.

XI

The low, orange sun was on Tsvetka's right hand side as she stumbled along in Samson's wake. By its light she could now see that they were headed across a wide volcanic plane, following a curious path which held no logic to her dull human instinct. Behind them, the crumbling cliff face down which she now supposed herself to have fallen, was falling under the cloud's shadow. Tsvetka shivered.

Samson was less susceptible to horrors, and thus more focused on their prospects in the immediate future. He jogged ahead at a steady pace, snuffling after some elusive goal that remained entirely mysterious to Tsvetka.

X

The cliff which had crumbled under Tsvetka's feet looked set to send down another avalanche; seedlings sprouted at precipitate angles, their roots white and torn - almost as though they were warning her of her near future.

Near being the operative word. Each lightning glance over her shoulder saw the... the cloud gaining on her. There was no way she could outrun it; she gave up looking behind, and tried to find something to help her, to hide her, to... Samson veered into her path, and away at right angles to the way they had been headed. Unquestioning, Tsvetka followed him. He could outrun them, when the time came. She would make sure he did. For now she followed his zig-zagging lead.