Alma came to a sudden halt.
Hugo and Shirin, not realizing she had stopped, pedaled onward.
“What should I do?” Alma whispered to herself.
And then—
The light came again, deeper in the woods now.
The light was copper, but it was nothing like it had been the first time Alma had seen it. That light had washed out the whole world, had forced her eyes closed, had burned with a radiance that could not be contained or hidden from.
This light sparked, flickered, sputtered. This light was struggling. This light, Alma thought, was almost out.
It moved farther and farther away. Then it was gone.
“Alma!” Shirin was riding back toward her, with Hugo following behind. “Are you turning around? Are we going home?”
“I thought I saw the Starling,” Alma said, her voice hushed.
“What? Where?” Shirin cried.
“Don’t run,” Hugo cautioned. “Let’s just see if we can approach her calmly.”
They hopped off their bikes and headed into the woods, tiptoeing over dirt and winter debris. Hugo had taken the quintescope and was leading them along a path of gold. Alma hardly dared to breathe as they moved farther and farther within.
Hugo stopped.
“The trail ends here,” he said softly. “Maybe she jumped into the air again? I’m not sure. Perhaps when we return tomorrow to see the caves we can also search this portion of the woods.”
Inside herself, Alma felt her own light burning.
And somewhere inside these woods, somewhere far away now, the Starling was growing dimmer and dimmer. What would happen, Alma wondered, if the light went out?
She couldn’t let the Starling go out while she shone. She couldn’t give up on her.
“No,” she said. “No, I’m not going home. I have to go to the caves. Tonight.”