The snow leopard let out two sharp snorts and gently set Albert down on the ground.
"We're lost."
"It's fine."
Albert steadied himself by holding onto the big cat's foreleg, then straightened up and surveyed their surroundings.
The same reddish-brown earth, the same height of the walls, the same chaotic maze of narrow tunnels—so similar that one could hardly distinguish anything from the first fork they'd seen.
A normal person couldn't possibly remember the way back.
But Albert's expression remained calm.
He smoothed the collar of his shirt—still damp from the snow leopard's mouth—and said softly, "Back when I worked at the Bio-Research Institute, I could memorize two hundred gene sequences in thirty seconds. I can retrace our steps. But Hayes—come look at this."
Something had caught the corner of Albert's eye. He stepped away from the snow leopard and entered a small side chamber, lowering his head to observe for a long moment.
Then he called for Hayes.
