"Yeah," Kaya murmured. "Better than you down here. Grab my shirt."
His fingers found the back hem of her shirt and hooked there, steady and sure. With his other arm he held Cutie tight, one arm under the knees, the other around his upper back, the boy's head turned in toward his chest so it wouldn't brush the stone. No more whining about how heavy he was. Just a firm, careful hold and the soft drag of his breathing.
Kaya took the first step down.
The stone was cool under her boots, and each stair dipped in the middle, worn by paws and feet that had used this way long before any inn was built above it. There was a thin film of damp in some places, enough to make the tread treacherous. She tested every foothold before she trusted her full weight to it. The air was the strangest part—thick and still, like it had been sitting here for seasons. When she pulled it in through her nose, it came slow, pressing into her chest and staying there. It didn't quite feel like enough.
