Jeb put his hand lightly on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Just watch your step and you’ll be fine. Now,” he said, pointing to the far end of the cavern, where the shallow stream ran into a dark cave, “the first cave back there is the bathing room. We’ve dug the floor out to make a nice, deep tub. There’s a schedule for taking baths, but privacy’s not usually an issue—it’s black as pitch. The room’s nice and warm so close to the steam, but the water won’t burn you like the hot spring here. There’s another cave just past that one, through a crevice. We’ve widened the entrance up to a comfortable size. That room is the farthest we can follow the stream—it drops underground there. So we’ve got that room fixed up as the latrine. Convenient and sanitary.” His voice had assumed a complacent tone, as if he felt credit was due to him for nature’s creations. Well, he had discovered and improved the place—I supposed some pride was justified.

“We don’t like to waste batteries, and most of us know the floor here by heart, but since it’s your first time, you can find your way with this.”

Jeb pulled a flashlight from his pocket and held it out. The sight of it reminded me of the moment he’d found me dying in the desert, when he’d checked my eyes and known what I was. I didn’t know why the memory made me sad.

“Don’t get any crazy ideas about maybe the river taking you out of here or something. Once that water goes underground, it doesn’t come back up,” he cautioned me.

Since he seemed to be waiting for some acknowledgment of his warning, I nodded once. I took the flashlight from his hand slowly, being careful not to make any quick movements that might startle him.

He smiled in encouragement.

I followed his directions quickly—the sound of the rushing water was not making my discomfort any easier to bear. It felt very strange to be out of his sight. What if someone had hidden in these caves, guessing I would have to come here eventually? Would Jeb hear the struggle over the cacophony of the rivers?