Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(27)

“Yes, there is,” says Lees. I turn toward her, to ask her what she has in mind. But before I can get out a single word, she is far below me, clambering down into the trench.

“Lees!” I don’t think; I don’t wait for her to turn. Instead I scramble out to the rim of the pit and start to climb right after her. There is only a small incline at the top edge where the rock slopes. Then it drops off sharply—too sharp to climb up or down. All I can think of is getting my hands on her and pulling her back out while I still can.

“Don’t follow me,” Lees says, as she crawls to the lip of the rock that plunges straight down to the floor of the pit. Without a look back at me, or even a glance at the girl, she swings her legs out and drops to the small circle of ground beside the dog.

My legs convulse so hard, I drop onto the slanted rock where I stand. I almost can’t look down. When I force myself, the world around me spins. A loud sound echoes though the cave—the sound of my voice as I scream my sister’s name. My ears ring with her name, mixed with a buzz like a thousand honeybee wings. I tremble so hard, I almost lose my balance and join her at the bottom of the pit.

But I can’t fall to pieces. I need to stay calm. I look around, searching for tools that could help us. The two girls are calling to each other, Lees shrieking with delight that the dog is being friendly to her. The other girl sobbing that Lees is with the dog and she is not. My eyes move from rock to rock—there’s nothing here. The net outside isn’t strong enough for Lees to climb. It would never hold her weight. Would my spear be long enough to reach her, if I lay across the ground and dangled it over the wall of the pit? Could she use it to pull herself up, or would she just slide back down again?

Far below, I hear her, struggling to find footholds. “I didn’t expect this to be so hard,” she says, breathless with effort. The other girl shouts instructions to her, but I know it’s no use. Even before Lees climbed down, I knew there was no climbing up those straight walls. If I’d thought it were possible, I’d have climbed down myself.

My eyes search the cave, but I find nothing long enough to reach her, nothing strong enough to pull her up. All I see are rocks—small rocks, big rocks, boulders.

“Wait,” I say. It comes out as a whisper, a word spoken more to myself than to the girls. But they both hear and they both listen.

I look across the wide mouth of the trench at the girl. This girl who is not even clan. This stranger for whom my sister is risking her life. “What’s your name?” I call.

“What’s yours?” There’s a clear note of distrust in her voice.

“I’m called Mya,” I say. “And that’s my sister Lees, putting herself in danger to rescue your dog.”

“My name is Noni,” the girl says.

“Well, Noni, you and I have a big job to do.”

Together, Noni and I gather the largest boulders that we can lift and bring them to the rim of the trench. There are others bigger and heavier—those we would have to roll—but I don’t dare use those.

After the boulders, we collect the bigger rocks. These we stack separately, off to the side.

I stand back and study the shape of the trench—the way the walls slope down from the front edge, but drop almost straight down from the edge that faces the back of the cave. Even the sloping side drops over a ledge a few paces down, right where Lees climbed over. Though the trench is wide at the top, it narrows as it deepens, so that the space where Lees and the dog stand is a circular spot of ground only about twelve paces wide.

With Noni’s help, I carry one of the largest boulders to the rim of the trench and look in. “Stay as tight against the back wall as you can,” I tell Lees. The dog, sensing that something is about to happen, huddles against her. “Lees, you need to stay out of the way. I’m going to let it roll down. If it comes close to you . . .” I trail off. What can she do if it comes close to her?

“If it comes close, I’ll jump,” she says. “Don’t worry.”

I do worry, of course. But with Noni’s help, I slide the boulder forward until it rolls into the trench.

It tumbles quickly, crushing chunks of rock as it slides down the slope and over the overhang to crash into the bottom of the pit. Lees jumps back, and the dog yelps and dives behind her legs. The boulder rocks forward, coming to a rest in almost the center of the space.

“All right,” I say. “That’s the first one.”

In this manner—Noni and I dropping one boulder after the other into the pit—the pit gradually fills. Lees builds a small wall to stand behind and keeps the dog out of the way of the falling rocks.

Boulder after boulder falls, each making the trench a little shallower.

After the sixth boulder and a pile of the bigger rocks, Lees can reach my outstretched arms when she climbs to the top of the mound. Still, the dog is skittish and won’t follow.

Noni takes my place, leaning over into the trench and calling, “Black Dog!” At the sound of her voice, the dog bounds up the rocks. He comes partway and begins to slide back down, but Lees grabs him by the scruff of fur behind his neck. My breath stills, my heart freezing from the sudden chill that runs through my blood at the sight of my sister so close to the jaws of a wolf. But it’s not a wolf. . . . It’s not a wolf. . . . I whisper this to myself as she hauls him up, dragging him until he finds footing on the sloping edge of the trench. Noni leans over and grabs him by the front legs and he is out.