"I won't get lost," she protested.
"That wasn't the reason, honey," I grinned at her.
Her eyes flashed a moment, and her nostrils made a perfunctory flare. Then she smiled, surprisingly shy, and slipped her hand into mine. "For moral support," she said.
"Nice rationalizing," I said, but she didn't pull away. Together, we followed Clatclit out of the chamber.
And that's when I learned the primary function of that red spike at the tip of the tail. No sooner were we away from the fungus-lighted chamber, than that tiny trylon began to glow, first pale pink, then a brighter scarlet, and finally a brilliant yellow-orange. We followed that bobbing tailtip like the ignis fatuus through the bowels of Hell. Snow's grip on my hand grew a little tighter as we progressed along the slippery red rock of the nearly circular passage.
"A regular candy-coated firefly," I joked, to lighten her mood. "What'll they think of next!"
She didn't answer.
"Bad joke?" I asked.
"No ... it's—Did you notice, Jery? We're going down."
We did seem to be descending, at that. I could imagine Snow's mind conjuring up tons of planet pressing down on us without warning.