The rocks of the pool floor shone green far below her, and silver fish flashed in the light. She was surprised by the depth of this water hole. She kicked toward the waterfall. Her vision was all but useless in the cascade of bubbles at its base, but she felt along the rocks with her hands and found, in the dark below the pouring water, a cavity that must be Po’s tunnel. She smiled, despite herself. She would never have found this secret place on her own; likely not a single person had ever done what she was about to do. She shot to the surface for a breath of air, then dived back down and pulled herself through the opening.
It was dark in this tunnel, black, and the water was even colder than the water in the pool. She could see nothing.
She kicked forward through the tunnel and counted steadily. Rocks scratched her arms, and she felt in front of her with her hands to avoid cracking her head against anything unexpected. It was narrow, but not dangerously so. Po would have no trouble, if he were well enough to swim.
As her count neared the number thirty, the passageway widened, and then the tunnel walls disappeared all around.
She shot upward, hoping to break through the surface, for she didn’t know where to find the air of this black cave if it wasn’t straight above. She was conscious now of her sense of direction, at which Po had always marveled. If she lost the tunnel in this darkness, and if she couldn’t find an opening to the surface, it was over for Katsa. But Katsa knew exactly where the tunnel was, behind her and below her. She knew how far she’d gone, and in what direction; she knew up and down, east and west. The darkness wouldn’t claim her.
And of course, Po would never have sent her into this cave if it were a place she could not endure. Her shoulder hit rock, and she heard a muffled slap that sounded like surface water on shore. She kicked forward toward the sound, and then her head burst above water, and she was breathing. She felt around and found the rock whose underside she’d struck. It jutted above the surface and felt flat and mossy on top. She pulled herself onto it, teeth chattering.
It was blacker in this cave than any night she had ever known. There was not a flash on the water, not even a thinner blackness to give shape to the space around her. She stretched her arms but touched nothing. She had no sense of the height of the ceiling or the depth of these walls. She thought she heard water slapping against rock for some distance, but she couldn’t be sure without exploring. And she wouldn’t explore, because they hadn’t the time.
So this was Po’s cave. He would be safe enough here, if he could get himself here, for no one who didn’t share his Grace could ever find him in this cold, black hole under the mountain.
Katsa slipped back into the icy water and dived for the tunnel.
———
She came ashore with a pair of wriggling fish in her hands. “I found your cave,” she said. “It’ll be easy enough for you to manage, if by some wonder of medicine and healing you’re able to swim. The tunnel is just below the fall of water. And here’s your dinner.” She threw the fish onto the rocks and dried herself with a cloth Bitterblue brought to her. She dressed. She held out her hand for Po’s knife, and he tossed it to her. She beheaded the fish and cut them open.
She threw the entrails back into the pond.
“You must go now,” Po said. “There’s no point in delay.”
“There’s some point in delay,” Katsa said. “What’ll you eat after these fish are gone?”
“I’ll manage.”
Katsa snorted. “You’ll manage? You don’t even have a bow, and even if you did I’d like to see your aim right now.
We’ll not leave until you’ve plenty of food and firewood.”
“Katsa, honestly. You must go, you simply must – ”
“The horse needs the rest of a morning,” Katsa said. “From now on it will ride hard. And – and – ” She refused, simply refused, to give in to the panic that rattled around inside her. And winter’s coming, and you can make me leave you here, but you can’t make me leave you here to starve to death.
Po rubbed his eyes. He sighed.
“You’ll need a lot of firewood. I’ll get started,” Bitterblue said, and Po laughed outright.
“I’m outnumbered,” he said. “Very well, Katsa. Do what you must. But before morning passes, you’ll be on your way.”
———
The morning was a whirlwind. The faster Katsa moved, the less she could think, and so she moved as fast as her feet and her fingers were capable of. She caught him two rabbits, which he could cook with the fish that night and store safely for a number of days. She cursed the weather. It was cold enough for Po to be uncomfortable during the day, when he couldn’t risk a fire. But it wasn’t cold enough for freezing meat; nor did they have salt to treat it. She couldn’t kill him meat now to last the winter, or even to last him a number of weeks. And in a number of weeks the hunting would become difficult for even those hunters who walked steadily on their feet and carried a bow.
“Have you ever made a bow?” she asked him.
“Never.”
“I’ll find you the wood,” she said, “before we leave. And you’ll have the hides of these rabbits to reinforce the stave, and for the string. I’ll explain to you how it’s done.”
She cursed herself for the feathers she’d discarded from all of the birds she’d killed. But when her rushed passage over the rocks disturbed a roost of quail, she swept stones up from the ground and managed to knock the majority of them down. They would be Bitterblue’s dinner and her own, and Po would have the feathers for arrows.
When she found a young tree with strong, flexible limbs, she chose a curved piece for the bow and some long, straight branches for arrows. And then she had a thought. She cut more branches and split them apart. She began to weave a sort of basket, square, with sides, top, and bottom about the length of her arm. She wove it tightly, with small openings between the slats. When she came back to the pool where Po still sat and Bitterblue still scrambled for firewood, she carried the basket on one shoulder, and the quail and the branches under her other arm. She cut a couple of lengths of rope and tied them to the edges of her basket. She lowered the basket into the pool, just deep enough that it couldn’t be seen, and tied the ropes to the base of a bush on shore. Then she pulled off her boots, her coat, and her trousers, and prepared herself once more for the icy shock of the water.
She dived. She hung suspended under the water, and waited, and waited. When a fish flashed nearby, she grabbed.
She swam to the basket and slid back the slats. She squeezed the wriggling fish inside and fastened the slats again.
She dived back down, snatched another fish, swam to shore, and deposited the squirming body into the basket. She caught fish for Po; so many fish that by the time she was done, the basket swarmed with their crowded bodies.
“You may have to feed them,” she said, once she’d returned to shore and dressed. “But they should last you some time.”
“And now you must go,” Po said.
“I want to make you crutches first.”
“No,” Po said. “You’ll go now.”
“I want – ”
“Katsa, do you think I want you to go? If I’m telling you to go it’s because you must.”
She looked into his face, and then looked away. “We need to divide our belongings,” she said.
“Bitterblue and I have done that.”
“I must dress your shoulder one last time.”
“The child has already done so.”
“Your water flask – ”
“It’s full.”
Bitterblue came over the top of the rise then and joined them. “The cabin is bursting with firewood,” she said.
“It’s time for you to go,” Po said, and he leaned forward, balanced himself, and stood. Katsa bit back her protests and gave him her shoulder. Bitterblue untied the horse, and they made their way back to the cabin.
Your balance is better, Katsa thought to him. Come with us.
“Cousin,” Po said, “don’t let her run the horse ragged. And be sure she sleeps and eats every once in a while. She’ll try to give all the food to you.”
“As you have done,” Bitterblue said, and Po smiled.
“I’ve tried to give you most of the food,” he said. “Katsa will try to give you all of it.”