TESS tried to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind that kept telling her to crawl out of this grave of mutilated bones, to run as far away as possible. It didn’t matter where she ended up, at least she would be out of this hell pit.

She sat next to the woman named Rachel, close enough to hear her ragged breathing. Soon she wouldn’t be able to see, but she had made certain the blanket covered her. The woman would not spend another cold night exposed to the elements.

Tess wasn’t sure why she had returned. She knew it would be best for Rachel if she went for help. But after an afternoon of roaming the endless woods, she knew help was not close by. She had barely found her way back, trying to leave herself a trail of pinecones. Now she wondered if it had been a mistake to come back, if she might be guaranteeing her own death. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to leave this woman.

Tess had managed to bring back a shoeful of water, using the broken-heeled leather pump she had unearthed. Rachel had to be incredibly thirsty, yet she drank little, most of it dribbling out of her swollen lips and trickling down her bruised chin.

She had said little since uttering her name. Tess had noticed that the woman’s breathing had become more labored. She had a fever and her muscles went into spasms for long periods racking her entire body.

After hours of analyzing the area, and examining every possible rock step, dirt ledge and sturdy root, Tess had resigned herself to the fact that she could not pull or carry or drag Rachel out. And no amount of rest would cure or repair the damage already done to her body.

Tess leaned her head against the dirt wall, no longer caring that pieces crumbled inside her collar. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something pleasant. A difficult task, considering her empty reservoir of pleasant experiences. Without much effort, Will Finley came to mind. His face, his body, his hands, his voice were all so easily retrieved from her memory bank. He had touched her so lovingly, despite his urgency and his insatiable passion. It was as though he’d genuinely felt something deeper than pleasure. And he’d seemed so intent on pleasing her, as though it had truly mattered that she feel what he was feeling.

For a short while it worked, carrying her away from the smell of decay. She thought perhaps she might even sleep. Then suddenly Tess noticed how quiet it was. She held her breath and listened. When the realization came, it swept over her like ice water being injected into her veins. The panic rushed through her, squeezing her heart. Her body began shaking uncontrollably, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, rocking back and forth.

“Oh, God, no,” she mumbled over and over like a madwoman. When she could get her body to keep still for a moment, she listened again, straining over the pounding of her heart, straining to hear, willing the truth to be untrue. It was no use. The silence couldn’t lie. Rachel was dead.

Tess curled into the damp corner and then allowed herself to do something she hadn’t done since she was a child. She cried out loud, releasing years of welled-up sobs and letting them rack her entire body. The sound pierced the silent darkness. At first she didn’t recognize it as something coming out of her. But there was no confining it. And so, she surrendered herself to it.