Chen’s voice whispered inside my skull, Do not be afraid. I won’t let anything hurt you.
Even Nuó?
He laughed uneasily.
Even Nuó.
Liar, I said.
More laughter, this time Nuó’s. Shut up, boy. And follow your pig-creature.
I felt a tug deep inside my gut. I sensed a large heaving mass next to me—Chen had materialized in his largest form yet, and his shoulder loomed above my head. Instinctively, my hand reached out and clutched the stiff sharp bristles of his chin. Chen grunted in protest, but did not jerk away from me. Trust me, he whispered.
I always do.
Night and the plains outside Phoenix City vanished. So did Yún, Quan, and Lian. There was only me and Chen, and the faint musky scent of Nuó, just ahead. I could hear the steady padding of her feet over stone. Follow, follow, follow, said their rhythm. Chen’s hooves clicked next to me as I trotted through a dark tunnel. Shadows sprang up beside me. Bright sparks appeared and vanished. Monsters flitted past—ghostly creatures that expanded and shrank and spread out like a living cloud. The stink grew less and less. A new scent overtook it, one of snow and mud and a plethora of smells I could not catalog, except to say I knew them well.
Impossible, I thought.
We are on the spirit roads, Chen grunted. Nothing is impossible here.
I opened my mouth to argue—so glad that I had my spirit companion back to argue with—when a blast of wind choked my mouth. Surprised, I fell forward into a deep drift of snow.
17
BLIZZARD WINDS SHRIEKED AROUND ME. IN ONE instant, my face went numb, and a deep ache penetrated my ears and into my brain. I blinked—tried to. My eyelashes were stuck to my face. I rubbed them free with one frozen hand. My brain clicked over into the realization that we were in the middle of a snowstorm, in the mountains, in the pitch-dark depths between midnight and dawn.
Stand up, Chen urged me. You’ll freeze.
Too late, I snapped. But it was so, so good to hear Chen’s voice.
A hand closed over my shoulder and hauled me upright. Quan shouted into my poor abused ear that I must start walking. I know, I know, I thought. Gloves, but no boots. Our cloaks too thin for the dagger-sharp mountain winds. I pulled my collar high and tugged my knitted cap over my forehead. Snow had already slithered into my shoes and soaked my socks. We would die in minutes unless we found shelter.
Then another body lurched into mine. “Kai. Oh, Kai, you’re safe.”
Yún pulled me into a tight hug. I clutched her even closer. We were both babbling, It’s you, you, you, you, while our spirit companions grunted and roared and shrilled at us to stop the love-talk and march, dammit.
“Quan? Kai? Yún?” The wind snatched at Lian’s voice.
“Here,” Yún said. “All safe.”
“I have Yao-guài,” Lian said. “Quan?”
“Here.”
We leaned close, head to head, our arms linked together, our hands tucked into our sleeves, creating a small bubble of temporary warmth, while around us the storm pummeled the mountainside. Yao-guài poked his head out from Lian’s shirt, ruffled his feathers, and dived back inside. Lucky monster, I thought, shivering. This close, I could sense Yún’s crane-spirit, Lian’s fox, and the shimmering phoenix that belonged to Quan. Overwhelming everything was the presence of Nuó, my mother’s mountain-cat. A tremor passed through all the other companion spirits, the humans as well. Only then did it occur to me that my mother must have sent Nuó to us.
Where is she? I demanded.
Safe, the cat grumbled. Safer than you.
Then why did you dump us here in a blizzard, you stupid piece of flea-bait?
Nuó hissed. Shut up, stupid boy. Forget your mother now. Follow me to the light.
Her presence vanished from my brain with a loud pêng. A wave of musk whipped around me, jerked my attention away from the circle of my friends. I lifted my head—a blast of wind hit me in the face. My eyes blurred with tears that froze immediately, but I’d caught a glimpse of Nuó’s figure striding away, the snows parting to either side, like soft cake split by a knife.
“Ai! The light!” Yún shouted. “There! I see it!”