Once again, as had happened so often in the past few days, I felt as though I was getting a message. The gashes seemed to be expressing some kind of pattern and meaning. But I was not able to understand it. Nothing was making itself understood to me.
I leaned forward. My bones groaned and my muscles ached. All of them, or so it seemed.
I was able to move my ankle out from under the root. As I did so I examined the root. It had risen out of the ground, then plunged back in a short distance later, maybe eight inches or so. The gap between root and ground was just large enough for my foot to fit inside.
I rubbed my ankle. It was bruised. I could see that already as I rolled down my sock.
No break in the skin, however, even though there was also scraping along the bruise. I gingerly put my
