She would leave it. And live. She could leave it and come back.
No. Drak-it. This animal was sufficiency for her. And for Viejo. If all those women could work two shifts, soaking their arms and fingers every night to reduce the swelling enough to hold a mallet or pull stitches the next day, she could hold her breath long enough to get this wretched animal out of the cave.
She grabbed the lip of the cliff and hauled the animal out the hole. The edges of her vision darkened, and she released it to kick weakly toward the sun. Her mouth found air just as she lost sight, and then Rohi lay on the surface of the pool, feeling the sun’s heat bake her wet clothes, breathing holy air, waiting for tingling to wake her limp arms and legs.
A bird’s shriek repeated, muffled by the water. The whole Er
