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staggered over the treacherous debris. More than once a loose rock shifted, upsetting her balance. Over and over again, she fell, got up, and fell again. Her laboring heart brought a nauseating thudding to her head. Her lungs hurt as if she had inhaled too much campfire smoke. Coughing made it worse.
    As Belina got closer to Nola, she slowed, picking her way carefully, lest she kick loose a rock and crush her sister. “I’m almost there,” Belina gasped.
    “Hurry!”
    Belina was crawling on her belly by the time she reached Nola, wincing every time the stones shifted. She saw Nola’s out flung hand first, the nails black with dried blood, the skin broken, torn.
    “Help me.”
    “Be still,” Belina soothed.
    She reached for Nola’s hand, lightly grasped her fingers. With surprising strength, Nola bore down.
    Belina edged closer. Nola was pinned under a slab of rock and a litter of tree branches. An involuntary breath of dismay burst from Belina’s lips. Nola’s face was savaged, her stern beauty replaced by a gruesome mask of blood and dirt. One green eye rolled, wide and wet with tears, its normal aggressive light gone to terror. When that eye found Belina, it searched her face.
    “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” Nola asked, voicing Belina’s deepest fears.
    “No, baby sister,” Belina said, tears dampening her cheeks. “It’s not so bad. A few scrapes and bruises, is all. Just lie still. Rest, and I’ll get you free.”
    “I can’t feel my legs,” Nola whimpered.
    “Be still,” Belina said again.
    Belina began working frantically, first tossing smaller stones away, then grunting as she heaved against the weight of the larger ones. Nola screamed more than once when a displaced rock crunched against some part of her. Each time she did, Belina winced. But she did not slow or stop. She had to get Nola free.
    After clearing off most of the rubble, Belina paused, her fingertips raw and trembling. A last chunk of rock lay across Nola’s torso. The edge of another stone lodged underneath the first, its surface webbed with cracks, was all that kept the larger slab from crushing the life from Nola. To move either unaided would bring disaster.
    “Hurry,” Nola cried, chest hitching. Fresh blood leaked from the grisly wound on her face. Belina saw the battle again, her sister reeling away from a sword stroke. The blow had ruined half her face, and stolen one of her eyes.
    “I ... I can’t move it,” Belina said. “If I do, the larger rock will smash you.”
    “Get it off!” Nola shrieked, and immediately fell to coughing.
    Belina stood up, remembering the other voice she had heard earlier. Maybe there was someone else who could help. Their father Damoc, maybe Sumahn or Daris.
    “Don’t go,” Nola moaned, guessing Belina’s intent.
    “I have to get help,” Belina said, taking a step back.
    “No! Stay with me!”
    Belina wheeled and raced clumsily over the treacherous jumble. Nola begged her to come back, but Belina kept on.
    Everything looked the same, a tangle of broken chaos. There had to be something, some sign of another survivor.
    Soon she found a splash of blood, the outline vaguely shaped like a handprint. When she reached the spot, she peeked over the jutting edge of a large rock and found Damoc, his legs pinned, but the rest of him free. Like her, his clothing was tattered and coated in blood and dust.
    “Belina!” Sweat beaded on Damoc’s brow, ran freely down his face, but he seemed hale enough. “Gods good and wise, I thought you were—” he cut off. “Help me get loose.”
    “Nola is trapped,” Belina said, scrambling down to her father.
    “I heard her crying. Is she...?”
    Belina flung a rock aside. “She’s hurt.” Telling him his daughter had lost an eye, or that she might be crushed beyond saving, served no purpose.
    By the time Belina finished moving what rubble she could, she discovered that Damoc was just as trapped as Nola. One foot was lodged between two rocks,