"Clan?"
A tiny voice, coming from a darkened alcove behind me. to turn
around.
"Clan?"
I heard tears and misery. It was her voice, but changed somehow. I
could almost smell the tears, their salt humidity. I got out the name,
a whisper.
"Casey."
It made me feel much better. We were both alive in there.
"You all right, Case?"
She shuffled out of the shadows, her face very pale. The naked right
arm hung at her side like a dead thing. With an effort I turned to
her. She stumbled to her knees in front of me.
"It... it hurt me." Sobbing. No sound. Just the involuntary
shuddering of her body.
My leg howled as I turned on it further, reaching out to her.
"Hurt me bad."
"I know. It's all right, Case. It's all right."
It wasn't though. I held her and looked over her shoulder for the
pitchfork. It was there just beyond us, tines curved upward.
She'd never felt so good to me.
"I did this," she said. "I did this to you."
"No."
It was useless to lie.
"I saw Steven ..."
She broke. Her body trembled. She was cold to the touch, and I could
feel the hard, bunched-up muscles beneath her clothing.
When the tears were under control again she sat pressed to me tightly,
face gleaming. She looked up at me. The fathomless blue eyes were
wide and liquid. They reminded me of that other night not long ago. I
knew she was mourning Steven. There was no help for it. I seemed to
see down into the suddenly grown-up heart of her. I saw fear and
compassion, and great hurt.
"You found me."
"We did."
It all came pouring out then, how she'd sat in that first passageway
waiting for me, ready to turn her flashlight beam to my