Based on the color of the sky, it looked perhaps half an hour before sunrise. There were mountains in the distance, but the flatness of everything skewed her perspective. Those mountains could be one mile away or thirty miles away for all she could tell. Her mind raced, alternately trying to decipher where she was, even when she was, and what to do about either. It was colder than Orange County, but not as cold as the mountains. Not as cold as any desert in winter should be. Death Valley, she figured. If they were still in North America, this had to be Death Valley. She turned around, looking over her shoulder in the other direction, the direction that seemed to go on forever.

There was Enola, a black obelisk in the salt. He approached her, slow and focused like a panther, and she turned around to face him, unconsciously putting her arms up in defense. Enola circled her like a vulture, his eyes radiating moonlight. As he circled her, growing closer with each orbit, Cora kept her face to him. Even though he never looked at the ground, he moved so delicately, never stepping on the crystalized salt ridges. After about one and a half orbits, he stopped, now only a few feet away. Cora fell into a crouch as if she were bracing for a bomb to go off, keeping an arm raised in defense. “Why did you bring me here?”

“WE ARE INSIDE A METAPHOR.”

He stood over her, his body and posture so much like Obelus’s the first time they had really come face-to-face, right before he had taken her hostage. Even his eyes were brighter versions of Obelus’s eyes, big gemstones with cloud nebulae centered in them, flecked with purples and blues.

“YOU ARE VERY FRIGHTENED, LITTLE COUSIN.”

“You remind me of someone,” she said. “Someone who once hurt me very badly.”

Enola tilted his head back and forth, examining her like she was some sort of museum artifact. He leaned in closer, his body so low that the tips of his curled knuckles grazed the little salt crystal walls. She tensed further, leaning away from him, trying to keep the image of Obelus standing over her out of her mind. The memory of it burned, lapped at her like wildfire.

“I DO NOT MEAN YOU HARM, LITTLE COUSIN,” he said, standing up to his full height and taking a few steps back. “IT IS NOT MY ENDEAVOR TO CAUSE YOU MORE FEAR AND PAIN. IF YOU ARE AFRAID, I WILL TAKE YOU BACK OUTSIDE OF MY METAPHOR.”

“No,” she said, snapping her head up to look at him, nearly vertical from where she was. She forced herself to her feet, nearly stumbling on her shaking legs. “No, I let you go because you said you’d tell me what he wouldn’t. I want to know what you have to say. Explain to me your metaphor.”