Kaida
The adrenaline left me all at once, like a tide going out and taking everything with it.
I became aware of three things simultaneously. My ribs hurt with every breath I took. My left ankle was screaming. And I was absolutely covered with mud.
The bear-shaped silence settled over the trail. Maggie lowered herself carefully onto a fallen log, one hand pressed to her hip, her face composed as she took inventory of her own damage.
“How bad?” I said.
“My hip is sore,” she said. “Bruised, I think. Nothing broken.” She looked at me more carefully. “You’re white as chalk.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You said that to him too,” she said. “It wasn’t convincing then either.”
I looked down at my soiled dress. The mud was impressive — I had left a Kaida-shaped imprint in the trail when Gerald we
