Isabella woke to the ache in her back and the heavy pull of sleep still trying to drown her. She lay face down at first. Cloth stuck to the skin where the lashes had opened it. When she moved, the sting came alive. She rolled an inch and stopped. She breathed in and out until the pain settled into a dull heat.
Lisa was there with a small lamp and a bowl. The light was low and steady. The smell of clean water and crushed leaves filled the room.
“Stay still," Lisa said. “I am almost done."
Isabella said nothing. Words cost more than they gave right now.
Lisa dipped a cloth, wrung it tight, and set it soft against the torn skin. Her hands were small and careful. She worked in short strokes, washing away the dried blood and the dust from the yard. Each touch hurt and then soothed. She blew
