Odymn holds back a sob.
Presses her length
to the trunk of the tree,
her ear to its bark.
Strains to hear.
"Where are you?"
she screams.
A pause in the rasp
of claws honing heart-wood.
Muffled shout
from deep in the grammid.
"Hold on," she yells.
"Hold on."
She dumps the pack on the ground.
Climbs to the lowest branch
of the grammid.
Finds a narrow hole
where branch intersects
with trunk of tree.
Odymn claws at the crevice.
Excavates a hole
the diameter of her hand.
Reaches into the space,
to the wrist,
to the elbow,
almost to her shoulder.
Stretches
and touches
his hand.
His fingers
curl around her own.
She sobs, relieved,
and shouts again.
Muffled baritone.
"Can you hear me?"
she says.
Stupidest of questions.
"Stuck."
Odymn examines
the base of the branch.
Finds a crack.
She hangs from the branch.
Bounces and tugs
along dwindling diameter,
hand over broken hand.
It sags, resists.
Odymn maneuvers
a little closer to the end.
Hears a snap.
Bounces again.
Another crack.
YOU ARE READING
Meniscus: One Point Five - Forty Missing Days
Science FictionAfter the Slain is shot, Odymn and an Argenop elder work together to try and return him to good health. As they journey towards the Themble, survival is a challenge. Odymn must add to her foraging skills and survive an attack by the vicious kotildi...
