She didn’t move quickly. That should have been my first clue. She had easily melted into the trees before. Pushing supple young branches far back, she made sure they were swinging for several paces behind her.

Her trail of dancing underbrush beckoned to me. I silently heeded its call.

Finally, she paused at what looked like a long fallen trunk just long enough to catch a glimpse of movement behind her before ducking low and disappearing. Curiosity at a fever pitch and sweat dripping from my brow, I licked parched lips and set my course for the same spot.

There was a sort of door, a hidden passageway into the Earth, and then a room.

At first, I was in awe. After months in the forest, on the run, living in makeshift huts, the sight of plumbing was a miracle. Then I realized she had known of this place all along. A pang of jealousy and anger sliced through the wonder and led to a mixture of emotions that ended in confusion.

“Why did you keep this from me? Why show me now?”