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portal.
    We make our way along a series of dirt roads, Kachina keeping to a pace that’s slow and steady until we reach an open meadow. I lean into her neck and give her free rein. Enjoying the feel of her racing beneath me, the wind lashing hard at my cheeks, wishing I could always feel as light, and free, and unburdened as this.
    When we reach native land, Kachina slackens her gait. Picking her way toward the grove of twisted juniper trees—their branches grossly distorted from the constant whirl of energy that marks the entrance to invisible worlds—as I scan the area for signs of the elders, Leftfoot or Chay—both of whom I wouldn’t mind seeing—and Chepi—whom I hope to avoid. But the reservation is quiet today, so I slide off her back, run a hand over her forelock, and say, “Don’t bother waiting, I’ll either call if I need you or find my way back.” She snorts, nostrils flaring as she shoots me a dubious look. Prompting me to give her a light pat on the rump and repeat my instructions. “Trust me,” I tell her. “You do not want to follow. The journey’s unpleasant. Now go!”
    She whinnies in reply and swiftly trots away, as I take a good look around to ensure no one’s watching, step between the trees, and slip deep into the earth.
    *   *   *
    I speed through the dirt. Traveling through the earth’s core with my palms pressed hard to my face in an effort to guard against the snarl of tree roots, worms, and all the other slick and slimy things that thrive in the dark. Unlike my first few journeys to the Lowerworld, I no longer fight it. Having finally learned that the less I resist, the quicker I’ll be delivered to wherever I’m destined to be.
    Once I’m free of the tunnel, I skid to a stop. My heels wedged into the ground as I slowly lower my hands and adjust to the light. Not the least bit surprised to find I’ve landed on a vast white-sand beach (it’s quickly becoming one of my more consistent deposit spots) and that Raven is not here to meet me. Apparently, Paloma was right when she said he’s no longer working for me. But the question remains: Is he working against me?
    I wipe the dirt from my clothes and make for the shore. On the lookout for spinning dolphins, breaching whales, and all the other creatures I’ve grown used to seeing. But while the sea appears as calm and inviting as ever—or at least it does from a distance—there’s no sign of activity, no sign of life. Even the usual schools of small silver fish are nowhere to be seen. The water is darker, murkier, and when I dip a finger inside, it comes out coated with a greasy film of dark sludgy ick.
    I wipe the gunk on my jeans, watching in horror when that same finger swells and flares into a bright angry red. The water’s polluted—grossly so. Leaving no doubt it’s the same contamination that’s responsible for killing those fish we found in the hot spring, and that it’s Cade Richter’s doing.
    All it takes is a quick glance all around to leave me feeling small, overwhelmed, and so ill matched against the task at hand, even I’m betting against me.
    Without Raven’s guidance, without Dace beside me, I’ve no idea where to begin. The Lowerworld is an immense place of many dimensions and no conceivable end. It’s a haystack-meet-needle situation.
    I grab hold of my soft buckskin pouch and wrap my fingers around it. Hoping the pendulum was right, that I really should continue to wear it in good faith—I send a silent plea for help. Appealing to the elements, my ancestral spirits—whoever and whatever might be willing to guide me. Then I tuck the pouch back in place and start walking with no real direction in mind, but determined to cover as much ground as I can.
    Though I don’t actually see any undead Richters, their presence can be sensed in the lack of chirping birds, the absence of animals at play. Even Wind, my guiding element, usually so willing to serve, is felt only by its lack—resulting in the