"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

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