They reached the rise. It was nearly as tall as Moria. When the lava had swept over the land, it had plowed down almost everything in its path. Sometimes, though, it had met an obstacle unwilling to fall, even under molten rock. The lava had done its best here, but the obstacle remained—a heap that may have been a stone hut, one side crumbling now, as if it was finally giving way under the weight.

As Moria and Gavril scooped out the debris, Daigo paced and watched the sky. Finally, they’d removed all they could, leaving a cave-like hole. It narrowed in the back, better suited for Daigo’s flexible form. He wriggled in as best he could.

Moria and Gavril hid their packs under the debris. Then Moria went in. It was a tight fit, with barely enough space to crouch.

“Are you going to make room for me, Keeper?”

“I’m trying.”

Another long roll of thunder. The sky was so dark she could barely see. The sand whipping about didn’t help, especially after they’d unsettled it moving rocks.

“Come out,” he said. “There’s more room in the middle. I ought to be there.”

She shielded her eyes and slipped from the hole. Gavril crawled inside and turned around. Once he’d settled, Moria backed in and promptly bashed into him.

“Move back,” she said.

“I can’t. Just sit.”

He tugged her down, and she landed in his lap.

“Not there,” he said, his voice muffled as if he was talking through gritted teeth.

“Is there someplace else?”

He didn’t answer. She was still uncomfortably close to the cave mouth, so she shifted to get farther in.

“Stop wiggling.”

“My knees are sticking out. And I’m getting sand in my face.”

“Then cover it. Just stop—” He drew in a ragged breath, as if she was crushing him. “Stop wiggling.”

“I’m not that heavy. I just need to move—”

“I said, stop. Now.” His breath was coming harder and she could feel the thump of his heart against her back.

“Do you have a fear of small places?” she said.

“No.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know—”

“Yes, I have a fear of small places. Now stop—” He put his hands on her hips, as if to hold her still, then quickly pulled them back. “Stop moving. Please.”

“Fine. There. Better?”

A moment’s pause. “Not truly.”

“And you call me difficult.”

He made an odd noise, and she realized her hair was probably in his face, which may have explained his continued difficulty drawing breath. She leaned to the side, feeling him tense as she moved, then he relaxed as she swept her hair over and rested her head against his shoulder. He lifted his arms and seemed to be trying to figure out where to put them.