CARIN STOOD face to face with one of the creatures, her snowshoes sinking into the soft powder of the pass. Intelligent eyes assessed her, round and black and shining. Before, she had smelled damp fur when the creature had taken off from the snow in front of her, and now she could see why. The bats—enormous bats!—were covered in thick white fur. Their noses, flat and upturned like the snout of a wild hog, were the bright yellow of spring horn flowers, as was the fur that ringed their large ears. The bat leaned forward in the snow on massive wings, and it gave off waves of warmth from its body.

Ryd and Ras had hung back from her when she advanced, but Carin feared nothing from these creatures. She couldn’t explain why she trusted them; perhaps it was the constant hum that had faded into the background of her notice like heartbeat or breath. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, with their abilities to remain unseen, they could have swooped down and killed all three of the earth-bound travelers without a second thought. Carin could have heard only the flapping of wings before being caught up by clawed hands and dropped from the air to die, broken on the rocks of the Mad Mountains.

But now, looking into the eyes of the creature, Carin believed that they had wanted to be seen—or they wouldn’t have been.

Hearing them back in the Mistaken Pass, the flapping of wings as they climbed now, the creature in front of their snow dwelling…it all meant to show themselves, to be less surprising.

As if an enormous white bat could be anything but surprising.

“Who are you?” Carin asked. She pulled the wool down from her mouth and asked the question again, the cold wind chilling her face where her breath had moistened it under cover of her scarf. Who indeed seemed the correct word to use with these creatures.

The bat in front of her leaned forward, and she felt its breath on her cheek. It smelled of snow and fur and fruit.

Its cheek touched hers, and the humming in her body grew loud like the wind.

Images appeared.

She saw a cave, high in the mountains, above a lush vale. The Hidden Vale? The cave was full of these creatures. Her ears hummed with sounds, and the longer the bat’s cheek pressed to hers, the more the sounds solidified into something recognizable. Ialtag.

“Ialtag,” Carin said aloud.

A rustle of wings around her seemed to convey pleasure.

The ialtag showed her more images then, of herself and Ryd and Lyah climbing through the Mistaken Pass, entering the cave in the Hidden Vale, and later leaving. It showed her the path beyond the Hidden Vale, the true pass that led northward, as if gently correcting the trail she had taken, believing the north as her true destination all along.

And then it showed her the path ahead, blocked almost entirely by snow. She saw a series of pictures, of the pass cleared, but of giant sheets of snow breaking away to cascade down the mountainside. The ialtag’s images seemed to bring with them a warning, a sad caution.

“The path ahead is blocked,” Carin said. She heard the noises of surprise from Ryd and Ras behind her, but ignored them.

The next image the ialtag sent her was herself, held aloft by one of them, soaring over the mountains.

The ialtag wanted to help them.

Carin almost fell backward with shock.

She wasn’t sure how to communicate her own thoughts to the creature, but she did the best she could, forming an image in her mind of seeing them before, of watching the ripples of their near-invisible movement, her sense of knowing she was watched. Again she felt a wave of affirmation from the ialtag, and pleasure to be understood.

Although she knew herself to be safe, Carin’s breathing became quicker. Never had she considered the possibility of finding another intelligent being, and now she stood cheek to cheek with a creature she had never even heard of.

The ialtag seemed to sense her thoughts, showing her images of ialtag vanishing from view of other people, of their colony deep in the mountains where no people ventured. They were curious, yes, but shy. If the ialtag communicated by touch—at least with other species—Carin wasn’t sure any people faced with a giant bat wouldn’t shoot it full of arrows.

At that, she felt a rumble of unease and confirmation in the ialtag gathered around her.

Carin felt tears well up in her eyes. She pictured her hand touching the ialtag’s face and received a positive image back of the same. She removed the mitt from her right hand and raised her palm to the ialtag’s furry cheek. Its fur was coarse, but smooth and thick and warm. While she seemed to be able to hear only what the ialtag in front of her wanted to say, all of them behind it seemed to hear her. Could they have a communal mind, like bees seemed to?

“Carin?” Ryd’s voice sounded behind her, uncertain.

“They want to help us,” Carin said, letting her hand drop from the ialtag’s face. “The pass was blocked by an avalanche. We’ll never be able to go through without them.”

“How exactly do they plan to help us?” Ras asked. His voice was incredulous, and not entirely trustful.

“They’re going to carry us.”