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eyes, forcing an end to this spiral of useless thoughts.
    After steady minutes more of hiking, she could tell the daylight had begun to fade. Was this day five ending, or six, or a different day? She tried to work it out, setting her mind to the puzzle as a diversion from her thirst and exhausting. But she couldn’t work out how long had passed.
    Abruptly, she came to her body again, noticing her surroundings. The ground beneath her feet was sloping downward more rapidly now. Hope sprang up in her and sped her steps. She had to force herself to stop every few dozen strides and listen for running water. As she hiked downhill, the daylight continued to fade.
    She never heard the water flowing. She had to step into it to know it was there. Her boot splashed into a stream of snowmelt.
    Coral dropped to her knees and thrust her hands into the water. It was wonderfully cool, the first cool thing she had touched since leaving the walls of the deep cave. She splashed water on her face, sucking water through her dry lips.
    Mud. Grit. This was water, but it wasn’t pure. Still, it was wet. If swallowing a bit of dirt would hurt her, so be it. She needed the moisture.
    After several swallows, she stopped drinking and took out her water bottle, draining the liquid remaining there in a few swallows. She sat cross-legged, filling her bottle again in the snowmelt stream. Maybe if she let it sit, the grit would precipitate out of it, and she could decant clearer water.
    Night came on. Coral let herself drink. The water in her bottle felt clearer, now, though she couldn’t see it—or anything else, for that matter. She luxuriated in the taste and feel of water sliding down her throat. Despite the bits of grit, it was still the best thing she had ever tasted. She decanted the fresh water, stopping when she felt mud touch her lips.
    She laughed aloud in pleasure as she rinsed then refilled the bottle and unpacked all her others, too. She had found water; she was going to live.
    For a few days, at least.
    She slept again, and when she woke, she felt her body coming alive. For the first time in almost a week, her bowels rumbled to life. Her kidneys and bladder, she was happy to find, still remembered how to work, though peeing burned like acid.
    As day broke, and the valley turned from black to dark gray, she drank her fill from the bottles, filled them again, and let the sediments settle for about an hour, then drank again. She used more water to rinse dust out of her bandana. Her thirst was nearly slaked. She filled every bottle to the brim, giving herself nearly a gallon of water spread over five bottles.
    She broke camp. It was time to move on, to find other people, to get back to civilization. And find something to eat. Her thirst relieved, she was made aware of her weakness. She needed fuel, and soon.
     

Chapter 4
    Hydrated, she made better time. The stream of melt water was her guide. Following the water’s course might delay her making her way back to other people, but she couldn’t abandon the life-sustaining liquid, and certainly not for a vague hope. Eventually, she knew, water had to lead to a town. Find a river, keep moving downstream, you’ll find a town, guaranteed.
    Lunch was water. Supper was water. What she’d give for a handful of crackers.
    In this fire-wasted land, she could see that she would find no plant food, no spring berries or miner’s lettuce. No mushrooms. Maybe root vegetables, but without their tops, there was no way to find them, even if she knew what was edible—and she didn’t. She didn’t see any animal tracks, either, though even if she had, she had no idea how she could trap or kill one. An animal certainly wouldn’t be willing to sit patiently while she beat it to death with a rock.
    But she had her rod and reel and this trickle of water running away downhill, and that gave her hope of finding a bigger stream with fish.
    She followed the water as it found its way to lower ground. For two more