Ivory and Bone(73)

You lie on your side, facing away from me, your legs underwater from the knees down. Your hips balance on a small ledge that protrudes from the wall of rock just beyond you.

I call your name again, but you give no response.

The dread I’ve been feeling transforms to gradual acceptance—you are not conscious. You can’t be—if you were, you would answer. But you must be alive. . . . You must be. The position of your body—your head out of water—you couldn’t have fallen like that. No, you must be alive.

All I need to do is reach you, to find a way to lift you out of the ravine.

I lean heavily into the current, taking slow, steady strides, clutching at the canyon wall. One . . . two . . . three more steps and I am there.

I reach out to lay a hand on your back, but before I touch you, my hand jerks away. A wide stripe of blood paints the back of your parka from collar to hem.

A head injury . . . blood must be running down from some hidden wound.

Careful to hold on to the rock you lie on, I run my eyes over the stain and up the length of your back to a dry, crusty puddle on your collar, protected by your draped hair. I reach out a hand and gently touch you. To my surprise, you startle and turn toward me.

“You’re awake.” It’s obvious, but it’s the only thing I can think to say.

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who?” I ask, though I’m certain what your answer will be.

“Where’s Lo?”

“I don’t know,” I say, taking care to look behind me without compromising my balance.

“She found me in my hut—I’d gone to get another spear. She found me, and we fought. I cut her—a gash across her forehead. There was so much blood. . . .”

I remember your hut, the bloodstains on the walls.

“I threatened her, warned her to run back to the beach, but she said I would have to kill her—I would have to kill her or die. . . .” Your voice trails off and your eyes fall shut, as if you have dropped back to sleep.

“Mya?” I squeeze your shoulder and your eyes fly open again.

“She followed me,” you say. “She chased me into this canyon. We struggled. . . . We struggled and we fell.”

Could Lo still be here? To my left and right, to my front and back, I see no one, yet there are plenty of spaces and crevices between rocks for a person to hide. We need to get out of the open. The cave is our best hope, but we’re not there yet.

Despite your quick reaction to my touch, you are far from alert. Talking seems to have exhausted you. You scowl and turn away.

“Mya, you can’t sleep here. Mya!” I shake your shoulder, not rough but firm, and you spin around, wide-eyed, as if you’d already forgotten I was here. You whirl so quickly I grab you by the waist to keep you from falling from your narrow perch. “Mya!” Your eyes are already closed; your forehead slumps against my shoulder. I take your face between my two palms. Your cheeks feel warm, despite the cold all around us. “Can you stand?” I shout into your face. “We need to get out of here.”

“I can’t go now. . . . I’m tired,” you say, keeping your eyes pressed shut and jerking your head from my hands.

Cold claws at my feet. If we are going to get out of here, I am going to have to get us both out on my own. “I’m sorry, but we have to go now.” Without another word, I wrap one arm around your back and scoop up your legs with the other. I lift you slowly, mindful of my footing under the water, rushing and flashing, as if it, too, were full of panic, hurrying out of these hills.

As I straighten, you wrap your arms around my neck to hold on. “Why won’t you let me be?” you ask, though you don’t put up any fight and even let your head fall against me.

I don’t answer you. I doubt you would hear me. Besides, I’m not sure what my answer should be. I didn’t come looking for you because I think you need me. You have too much strength for me to think that way. I owe you; that’s true. You saved my life more than once already.

At my core, of course, I know my reasons are so much bigger than that.

But now is not the time to wrestle with motives. I shove these thoughts aside so I can focus on my task. Each step is a new test. My feet are numb inside my boots, and rain still falls in my eyes, though the air is warming. The ice that coated the rocks earlier is melting away, and as I climb closer to the summit, the runoff slows. I force myself to step slowly, holding you close against me to keep our weight centered over my feet. At last, the water is so shallow that I am able to step up out of the stream and onto the rocky trail. From here, it’s a short distance up to the crest of the cliff and down the sea-facing side to the cave.

This morning I thought this path was the most treacherous I’d ever crossed. I would never have believed I’d cross this same path carrying you.

I try to remember each foothold in my mind’s eye—I’d studied them so carefully this morning—this one was a bit deeper than the others, this next one a wider stride to the left. Rocks the size of men encroach so far into the path that they snag on my parka. In front of me there is a nearly straight drop to the sea.

I stop to catch my breath a moment, looking out over the water. Boats move in the distance—the boats of Lo’s clan, receding into the north. Could Lo be on one? Could I have passed her on the trail and not seen her?