The blood from the vial tasted like nothing, like a few syrupy drops of air.

Okay, I said. Now what?

The bridge rumbled, and the dirt on its surface bounced and shook around like millions of jumping beans. Cracks zigzagged underneath our feet and ended at a large hole several yards away. Tram's roots, red like mine, stretched the hole open wider, then slithered out to wind around mine on the ground in a playful dance.

While I was distracted with watching them, ...